


Satine

by anankeskywalker



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - 1930s, Alternate Universe - Historical, Anakin is 23 and Obi-Wan is 35, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Misunderstandings, No Period Typical Homophobia, Obsession, Obsessive Behavior, Rebecca AU, Romance, Slow Burn, daphne du maurier - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-04-20 15:11:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 32,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14263773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anankeskywalker/pseuds/anankeskywalker
Summary: In the spring of 1937, working as a wealthy man’s companion and his future looking bleak, Anakin meets a handsome widower Obi-Wan Kenobi on a trip to Monte Carlo. It is known that Obi-Wan is mourning the sudden demise of his beautiful wife Satine. Sophisticated and mysterious, Obi-Wan draws Anakin into his orbit, and Anakin is enchanted. Consumed by love, he dives into a future he was never prepared for....





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, I'm giving fic-writing a go for the very first time! Please be kind :)
> 
> While this fic is titled Satine, the character itself won't be present in the story's timeline, as I'm sure you've gathered as much from the summary. 
> 
> This fic is based on the novel Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier, so I'll be borrowing the general plot, certain dialogues, and settings to play with my Star Wars characters. Having read the novel or seen the movie Rebecca is not necessary. If you've read or watched the movie, I hope I can still keep you engaged in the story. :)

Last night he dreamt he went to Manderley again.

He had stood by the iron gate leading to the driveway, the padlock and chain on the gates barred him from entering, and he had stood gazing up at the imposing but rusted gate. For a moment, he thought of turning away and going back the way he’d come, but found himself unwilling to turn or to even move toward the gate.

He peered through the spokes of the gate, hoping to call for the lodge-keeper but only saw the lodge which seemed uninhabited. Then as he reached forward to place a hand on the padlock he drifted through the gate like a spirit. And it was then he realised that he was indeed a spirit visiting a memory... no, not memory, a dream. This was a dream. Because in memory this place was nothing like as it now appeared before him.

He drifted along the drive that twisted and turned as it had always done, taking in the narrow and unkempt condition, it was nothing like he had known. He looked around as he passed, wondering what had happened. It was clear the nature had taken her course and triumphed over the once clear road leading to the house.

The wilderness around him grew more rogue as the path seemed to multiply in miles. The branches hanging low enough to brush his head, the ground choked with grass and moss, and the gnarled roots slowed his progress. He was beginning to believe the path was leading him nowhere or maybe to a labyrinth of wilderness, and there was no end to this journey at all. His preoccupation with the end of journey did not prepare him for sudden end of it, making his heart kick up an erratic beating in his chest.

There it was. Manderley. Standing silent and imperious in her demeanor. The moonlight shown upon the grey stone, the green lawns and terrace reflected in the windows. The terrace sloped to the lawns, which stretched to the sea. The sea was a sheet of silver placid under the moon.

A lone cloud drifted across the moon, bathing the scene before him in dark, and when the light illuminated his surroundings again he found himself inside the house. Moonlight filtered through the windows, and he recognised the room as the Library. Hushed and still, he stood as if waiting for the house to push him back out of the door he had once walked through countless times. Nothing happened. It was like the house, too, was waiting to see what he would do next. 

He couldn’t decipher why he would feel like an intruder here when he knew with absolute certainty that in waking hours he would remember this place with nothing but fondness. The heap of books on the table, the cushions, the rose gardens just outside the window, the Happy Valley. There was no way he had ever feel bitter about them. And yet, as he stood staring at the cold ash in the fireplace, he thought ruefully how in his waking hours he wouldn’t think of returning to this place.

He knew when he wakes up, stretching and turning, opening eyes to the glittering sun coming through the windows of the bedroom, he would only think of the day that lay ahead. He would not talk of Manderley, and he certainly would not talk of his dream.

************

He thought of the dream long after waking. How as he had drifted to wakefulness, Mandeley had seemed to lose all its light and shine, and looked almost lifeless except for the breeze slowly stirring the soft curtains. As if the image of how he imagined it would look like in reality was bleeding into the dream, shifting the shapes and dulling the colours. And it was with relief he’d returned to reality.

No dark shadow could steal upon the sunny glare reflecting on the pristine white floor of the present balcony. No servant would throw open the doors unceremoniously, punctual to the second, and come marching in with the silver tray bearing the kettle to perform the never  varying ritual of laying the table for tea. No act required on his part, the feigned indifference to the assortment of feast laid before. Because no matter how much time passed he could never be over the fact that there, in Manderley, had always been enough food to keep a starving family fed for a week. Where did all the left over go, sometimes he wondered wishing he’d dared to ask but never had.

Oh, how he used to put on an act after other act to please the inhabitants of Manderley. Too nervous to show how he longed to just reach out a hand and talk about anything or everything, without worrying if he fell short of their expectations.  Maybe not all of them, now that he thought about it, maybe it had been just one. He could see in his mind’s eye a dark silhouette of a man standing at the top of the grand staircase, framed by the light pouring through the tall windows behind, looking down, watching.  That one man who had been able to make Anakin question his place and worth in Manderley.

What he must’ve seemed to them all? The impression he must’ve made with his lack of poise, and of course, grace?

He wished some things had been different, or at least, gone differently but then he wouldn’t be the confident, self-assured man that he was today. He did wonder what his life would’ve been had he not chosen to work for Watto all those years ago. He wouldn’t have met the man who had turned his life upside down in no time. He supposed, as fate would have it, he had been exactly where he was meant to be, after all. 

Looking back at the distant memory he could see himself, scrawny but youthful, dark blonde waves just starting to reach his ears, dressed in second handed suit that was too large, and following a fashionably dressed Watto like an assistant taking orders. Watto always walked first into a room to make it clear he was a man of wealth, having people to trail after him.

For all his status in society, Watto was a nosy man. Always having an eye and ear for peoples’ private lives to see if he can turn anything to his advantage. He liked making connections, somehow he would manage to introduce himself, learn names, their associations with other people of importance, the newest gossip, and then use it all to connect with more people. Claiming people of distinction as his friends, even though he had seen them once at other end of a room, was his vice.

Anakin wondered what his life would’ve been if Watto had not been such a snob. His curiosity was uncontainable, almost a mania. People who soon became aware of this would leave a room the next time they noticed Watto walk in, or disappear behind a door in the corridors, or just make fun and laugh. Anakin had been a witness to all of this, he had no choice.  He had to bear the pains that came with having to be Watto’s paid companion.

For many years, Watto had come to Monte Carlo making him one of the regulars to stay at the Hotel Cote d’Azure. He had made a habit of sitting in a certain sofa in the lounge, which gave him a clear view of the reception hall and the passage to restaurant. Like this he was able to see anyone who passed by.

The setting had been slightly different on that unforgettable sunny afternoon as Anakin had sat listening, uninterestedly, to Watto complain on the quality of food served and the lack of any person of importance in the dining room. They were seated at their usual table in the corner of the vast, ornate and ostentatious, dining room of the Hotel Cote d’Azur in Monte Carlo. But to a dissatisfied Watto, they might as well be seated in little road side restaurant.

“Not a single well-known face here! It’s been a week now, I’m thinking I shall have the management make a reduction of my bill. What do they think I bother coming here for? To watch the service?” Watto said with disgust.

Anakin watched, his own cold plate ignored, as Watto scooped a spoonful of the ravioli and smacked at the sauce on the corner of his mouth. Turning away, he looked at the table next to theirs.

It appeared that after remaining vacant for past three days, the table was going to be occupied that afternoon as the waiter walked over to remove the reservation plate on it. Anakin had turned in time to see the maitre d’hotel , with a graceful bow, usher the new arrival into the dining room and then proceed to lead the man towards the table.

The sound of a fork clattering beside him told Anakin that Watto had noticed too. Watto was staring at the newcomer unabashedly. Anakin quickly arranged his face into a more neutral look than the curious one he knew he had been sporting a moment ago. He knew Watto too well to not recognise the look of a dog having caught scent. He felt bad for the new guest.

Meanwhile, the man, unaware of the disturbance his arrival had caused, was casting a wandering eye over the menu. Anakin liked to imagine that the man knew exactly who Watto was and was purposely remaining ignorant to save himself, and this made him feel better about the whole situation. But not for long.

“Why, it’s Obi-Wan Kenobi,” Watto announced leaning across the table with excited eyes, and his voice a bit too loud for Anakin’s liking, “the man who owns Manderley. You’ve heard of it, of course? He looks miserable, don’t you think? They say he can’t get over his wife’s death....”

If this was his first time with Watto, Anakin would’ve been visibly shocked at such declaration, as he used to at first, but he had spent enough time to know that for Watto any kind of news about people was worth gossip and his time. And Anakin had suffered enough occasions of silent embarrassment and internal cringing to show any of it on his face presently. He remained neutral.

But Anakin’s lack of reaction wasn’t going to discourage Watto, never had, so he hastened to finish off the contents of his plate, all the while shooting quick glances at Kenobi to make sure the man was still having his lunch. 

Anakin saw Watto was already debating his method of attack, prayed to what force there may be to not let him be dragged into this because tact was not a quality Watto knew of, and from what he had learnt of Kenobi moments ago, Anakin doubted the man would appreciate intrusion and will most certainly think ill of them. He had lost count but once again he resented his association with Watto and the part he played in his schemes.

Watto looked up from his plate, his eyes alight, “Now, Ani, sprint upstairs and find that letter I received from my colleague Hondo when we arrived here. Bring it down to me quickly.” Anakin promptly stood up from his place, to do his part like a circus assistant.

Anakin took his time finding the letter. He found that he wanted to give that man his solitude, he didn’t know why he felt like he wanted to be on this man’s good graces. He didn’t know him, but Anakin felt the man must’ve come all the way to south of France for some peace and quiet. All though he couldn’t see how anyone would think peace and quiet can be found in a place like Monte Carlo.

He considered going by the Service staircase and thereby take a roundabout way to the restaurant, and warn the man about Watto. He found he didn’t have the courage to carry it out. He wouldn’t be able to form the sentences coherent enough to make the man understand. At the end, he simply deliberated his time arriving at the lounge.

Kenobi had left the dinner-room and, to Anakin’s dismay, was already seated on that couch in the lounge with Watto. Watto had given up waiting for Anakin and simply risked following Kenobi, and making an introduction, Anakin could gather that much by himself. He crossed the room to the sofa and silently presented the letter to Watto, who waved his hand in annoyance at the interruption. But Kenobi at once rose to his feet in greeting, making Anakin flush in embarrassment.

“Ah, Mr.Kenobi will be having coffee with us, go and ask the waiter to bring another cup,” Watto said casually from his place on the sofa, making it clear that Anakin was below him in position and there was no need to include him in the conversation. This tone of introduction always served to show that Anakin can be ignored, making it easier for people to just nod in his direction and carry on their talk, dismissing him. So it was a surprise when Kenobi remained standing and signalled the waiter.

“I’m afraid I must contradict you,” he said stepping aside gracefully, “you both are having coffee with me.”

And before Anakin could gather what was happening Kenobi took a seat on the hard back chair, which Anakin was sure was meant for _him_ , and left him to sit beside Watto on the sofa. Anakin sat with his hands clasped in his lap. For a second, Watto looked like he was about to protest but then he quickly composed his face and leant toward Kenobi’s chair as if blocking Anakin from view, for which Anakin was glad, and waved the letter in his hand.

“Now, the moment you walked in I recognised who you are and in an instant I knew I must show you Hondo’s beautiful honeymoon snaps,” Watto said eagerly. Kenobi raised an eyebrow slightly in response. Watto took that as interest and proceeded to present the snaps. “There is Dara, isn’t she beautiful? Such big eyes and slim waist, Hondo is crazy about her. Here they are sun bathing in Palm Beach. What you think of it? He was single, of course, when he threw that party in Palm Beach where I first saw you, but you don’t remember me, do you?” Watto gave a sly grin at this.

“On the contrary I remember you very well,” Kenobi said smoothly offering Watto his cigarette case, and effectively stalling Watto’s barrage. “I don’t think I should care for Palm Beach,” he said blowing his match.

Anakin glanced at him and thought again it was unreal that this man should be in Florida. But this time it was to wonder how Kenobi didn’t belong in a flashy setting like France. In Anakin’s head, Kenobi belonged in a fifteenth century setting of regal castles, and lush gardens and sunny meadows, where misty mornings and never-ending ocean shores were the background.

His face was sensitive, attractive, and had a bearing about it which suggested a wealthy upbringing and education. Dressed smartly in a sharp suit of deep navy blue, white shirt, matching tie, and the fashionable high waist trousers, Kenobi was a picture of sophistication. He reminded Anakin of a portrait he’d seen in a gallery. Anakin imagined Kenobi as the Noble Gentleman in the portrait, dressed in all black robes, lace at throat and wrists, intricate gold embroidery running down the front and along the seams. Proud blue eyes following one from their place...

Focusing back in the present, Anakin heard Kenobi saying, “....that sort of thing has never amused me at all.”

“...well, if Hondo had a place like Manderley I’m sure he wouldn’t care for Palm Beach either, none of us would,” Watto chuckled loudly, “I’ve seen Manderley only in pictures but I hear it’s enchanting, that it has all it takes to make a place a fairyland, and I can’t imagine how you can bear to leave it.” Kenobi continued to smoke his cigarette, watching Watto with slightly furrowed brows. Anakin felt his face starting to redden at the obvious silence, and Watto’s persistent chattering. It was clear Kenobi did not like talking about his wealth.

“You Englishmen depreciate your homes to not look too proud, but someone like me can see what a masterpiece a house like Manderley is, the value it holds. Isn’t there a minstrels’ gallery at Manderley, and some very valuable portraits? They say that minstrels’ gallery is a gem. I’d wager my money that your ancestors often entertained royalty at Manderley.”

“Well, you’d make me a wealthier man,” Kenobi shot back swiftly.

His sarcastic words were lost on Watto, who simply stared. At this point Anakin was red in face like it was he who’d been slapped. He resented his association with Watto. He didn’t want Kenobi to think Anakin shared Watto’s views. He writhed in his stead wishing he’d been older and confident enough to catch Kenobi’s eyes and smile at Watto’s witlessness. They could’ve bonded over his horrendous behaviour. But all he felt was shame. And Kenobi saw his distress.

Kenobi leant forward, his expression soft and so different from just a moment ago, and asked in a gentle voice, “Would like to have more coffee?” Anakin shook his head. Kenobi gazed steadily, his eyes reflective. Then he looked between Watto and Anakin as if puzzling over the nature of their connection before returning his gaze to Anakin with interest.

“What do you think of Monte Carlo, or do you think of it at all?” Kenobi asked with a soft smile, leaning back and crossing his arms. Anakin wished again he had the confidence to hold an intelligent conversation with this man, or at least give an intelligent reply instead of the obvious blunt answer that first came to his mind.

“Oh...I-I think it’s rather artificial-” Anakin began with an awkward smile making Kenobi’s eyebrows raise in mild amusement.

“He’s spoilt, Mr.Kenobi, that’s his trouble. Most young boys would give their eyes for the chance to see Monte.” Watto rattled. Kenobi returned his gaze to Watto, his amusement still intact.

“Wouldn’t that rather defeat the purpose?” Kenobi said, glancing at Anakin and smiling. Once again it was lost on Watto, who simply shrugged and blew a cloud of smoke. Anakin twitched his lips before dropping his eyes to look between Kenobi and the table before him.

“What brings you here, Mr.Kenobi? You are not a regular here, I would know,” Watto said curiously, Anakin could already sense Watto’s hunger for making a connection with a man of Kenobi’s stature. “Don’t you miss the fogs at Manderley? It must be delightful in the spring.”

“Manderley was looking its best,” Kenobi said shortly frowning, eyes steely, his face clouded briefly as if a memory was playing before him. Anakin felt like he was looking at something personal but he couldn’t tear his eyes away. “And I’m not sure what I plan to do here, I came away in a hurry” Kenobi added as an answer to Watto’s earlier query, he seemed to be bringing himself back to the discussion from distance. He busily squashed his cigarette in the ashtray.

His detached countenance once again made Anakin think of the Noble Gentleman. Cloaked and secret, walking silently through a dark, high ceiling corridor. During the momentary pause in conversation, Kenobi seemed to finally look away from the vision in his mind’s eye and drew a breath. 

“Well, now that we’ve met, Mr.Kenobi, I must insist that you meet me for a drink in my suite,” Watto implored leaning forward and grinning, impervious to how Kenobi was looking coldly at him. “Why not join us tomorrow, I have couple of people coming by?”

“I’m sorry, I’ll probably be driving to Sospel, and I’m not sure when I’ll be back.” Kenobi said quietly. He seemed to have lost all interest and amusement in the conversation, and was holding up a standard behaviour of politeness.

 “I hope they’ve given you a good room, this place is half empty, if it doesn’t suit your standards, I suggest you make a fuss. I suppose your valet has unpacked for you?” Even for Watto, this was a bit desperate. Anakin cringed at the over familiarity of the subject. And looking at Kenobi it was apparent he felt the same.

“I don’t possess one,” he said quietly, smiling thinly, “perhaps you would like to do it for me?” There was no mistaking the put down in his tone. Watto did not miss it this time, and managed to laugh awkwardly.

“Oh, I hardly....” Watto turned to Anakin sharply, “Perhaps you could make yourself useful to Mr.Kenobi if he wants anything done, after all you are a capable boy.” Anakin could only stare in disbelief, he was used to be ordered about but being reprimanded so suddenly in front of a stranger stung him. It made him seem worthless, and conscious of his helplessness. He turned his stricken face to Kenobi, waiting for his answer.

But Kenobi was not looking at him, there was no mistaking his demeanour, even seated he managed to look down at Watto, his face mocking with a hint of smile on his lips, “That’s a charming suggestion,” he said standing up, his arms crossed, and now literally looking down at Watto, “but I came with my family motto, He travels the fastest who travels alone. Perhaps you’ve not heard of it. Good Day.” Without waiting for an answer he turned and left them staring after him.

“What did he....” Watto mumbled still looking in the direction Kenobi had left, and then turning to Anakin he asked, ”Do you think he was being funny leaving so abruptly?” Anakin simply stared back at him. Watto realising he wouldn’t find anyone else of noteworthy for the day stood up. Anakin followed. Together they walked towards the lift.

As the doors opened Watto turned to Anakin, “By the way, Ani, you were a teeny bit forward this afternoon with Kenobi,” he said stepping into the lift, Anakin following closely behind, “trying to make high statements and monopolizing the conversation, it embarrassed me, and I’m sure it did Kenobi too.” Anakin lowered his eyes.

“Men loathe that sort of thing,” Watto continued, “Come now, don’t sulk. I am responsible for your behaviour here, and you will do nicely to accept advice from a man old enough to be your father.” He laughed at that.

Back in his room, Anakin took out his sketchbook and a blunt pencil, and sat at the window-seat looking over the afternoon sun. He started sketching a profile, pale, handsome and aquiline.  Sombre blue eyes, an even-bridged nose, a beard, he liked to imagine a cleft chin under the beard, and a scornful upper lip. He drew dark lace at the throat, as he remembered from the portrait in the gallery. He paused to look at his work. It was fanciful, not exact in its realness.

He heard the door knock once, and a lift-boy walked with a note. Anakin tried telling that Watto was in the other room, but the boy shook his head and held out the note. Anakin had no choice but to take it. There was only a single like in an unfamiliar handwriting.

_‘Forgive me. I was very rude this afternoon.’_

No signature and no greetings. He enquired the boy if he was absolutely sure the note was meant for him and not Watto.  But the boy insisted saying the man who handed the note told him to say that he was the man at the lunch this afternoon. And continued to add that the man told him to hand the note to the young man accompanying the older man. The lift-boy asked if Anakin had a reply to the note that needed to be taken back. Anakin shook his head and sent the boy away.

Rude? Mr.Kenobi? Why would he think that? Kenobi had been most polite and gracious to Anakin. Anakin couldn’t imagine why Kenobi would even feel the need to apologise even if he felt he had been rude. He looked back at his sketch and it displeased him. The face was stiff and forbidding, and the lace gaudy. He told himself he would make a better sketch with proper study the next time he got a chance. If there was any...


	2. Chapter 2

Anakin stood with his hands clasped behind his back. There was nothing else for him to do except stand back and watch as the doctor checked Watto’s pulse. Watto had woken up with a sore throat and a temperature of hundred and two. He had wasted no time making a pitiful sight of himself. Telling Anakin, oh, how this poor creature will have nothing to do now with him so unwell. And Anakin, for his part, had wasted no time ringing in the doctor. Same couldn’t be said of the doctor.

Finally, the doctor straightened to declare it was the usual influenza. He proceeded to add that the trained nurse must look after him for a fortnight or so. Anakin began to protest saying it was unnecessary, he could do it himself. But Watto cut him short by agreeing with the doctor.

Anakin suspected Watto was secretly glad of the illness. Monte Carlo had begun to bore him and this little illness will be a nice distraction to him. Not to mention the fuss it would create, the sympathy of people, the visits and messages from friends. Oh, Watto was enjoying this.

With this new understanding, Anakin enquired if he will be needed for anything else. But the nurse made it clear Watto will be remaining quiet and still in bed, given injections, a light massage, and left alone to sleep. Anakin need not to worry. And Watto waved his hand in dismissal.

Nonetheless, Anakin made sure Watto had enough pillows, his best bed-jacket around his shoulders, and a night cap upon his head. Then telephoned Watto’s friends informing them of his illness and cancelling the small party they’d planned for that evening.

He didn’t know what to think of his own light heart. He knew he shouldn’t be relieved but he’d had a terrible time last evening attending to Watto’s guests in the suite. Watto and his friends had smoked, played cards, and talked loudly. Anakin believed it was the loud talking that had resulted in sore throat. He had hurried from one guest to another asking after their needs before disappearing quietly through his bedroom door and staying in there for the rest of the evening... A fortnight would be a welcome leave from it all, he supposed.

He checked on Watto again before grabbing his sketchbook and going down to the restaurant. He was an hour earlier than their usual one o’ clock. This way he can avoid the crowd and noise of the usual lunch hour rush and eat in peace, he reasoned. Occupied in his thoughts he failed to notice until he was half-way into the room that the room was empty except for one table next to theirs. It was too late to turn back, for Mr.Kenobi saw him approach.

This was a contingency for which Anakin was unprepared. He’d believed Kenobi had gone to Sospel. But seeing him at lunch earlier than everyone else made it clear he’d only said so to avoid Watto and Anakin. Just like he’d wisely avoided dining in the restaurant last night after making his escape earlier in the afternoon. Anakin hoped Kenobi didn’t feel obligated to acknowledge him now.

He went for their table in the corner looking straight before him, and sat down placing his book on table. Unfolding the napkin onto his lap he began to shift the glasses before him and knocked the flower vase. The water spilt across the table soaking the tablecloth and ran down onto his lap. He grabbed his book, shaking water off the leather cover he looked around for the waiter. The waiter was too far at the other end of the room and had not seen. Kenobi was by his side in a second, dry napkin in hand.

“You can’t sit at a wet tablecloth,” he murmured, moping at the tablecloth, “get up now, it’ll put you off your food.”

“It’s alright, I’m eating alone, it-it hardly matters,” Anakin mumbled standing up just as the waiter arrived having noticed the disturbance, “I can sit on the other side just fine.”

Kenobi said nothing, stepping aside for the waiter to clear away the vase and flowers. He was dressed in dark browns today and standing this close he looked neither forbidding nor stern. This observation made Anakin conscious of how poor his sketch had been. He stared at the sprawled flowers on the table.

“Lay another place at my table,” Kenobi said to the waiter, “Monsieur will be having lunch with me.” Anakin looked up, cheeks warming, as the waiter hurried away with a swift nod.

“Oh no, I can’t,” Anakin said while desperately trying to find an excuse, “The waiter can just wipe the table, I’ll be fine.”

“Why not?” Kenobi asked. Anakin watched as the waiter began to set the place across Kenobi.

“Please, it is kind and polite of you to ask,” Anakin said fiddling with the edges of his book, “you need not trouble yourself.” He finished weakly.

“But I’m not being polite,” Kenobi said, looking genuinely confused and eyes scanning over Anakin’s face, “I want you to have luncheon with me. I would like you to, that is.” Kenobi smiled pleasantly and added, “I would’ve asked even if you had not knocked over that vase.” Anakin doubted that and it must’ve showed on his face. Kenobi sighed shaking his head.

“Come now and sit down,” Kenobi said walking over to his place and sitting down. Anakin hesitated but took the seat across him.

The maître d'hôtel presented him a menu with a slight bow. Anakin realised Kenobi’s attentions to him had elevated his position in the eyes of the head waiter, who had long seemed to have sensed Anakin’s position as inferior to Watto’s. Anakin simply shook his head at the menu and ordered for scrambled eggs. He was too nervous to force his stomach to hold down anything else.

“I haven’t had the pleasure of knowing your name,” Kenobi said resting his elbows on the table and tilting his head to the side.

“Anakin Skywalker.” Anakin said slowly. It was rare for him to share his name in lieu of introduction. Watto did it if he cared to remember and Anakin mostly didn’t care to know the people in Watto’s circle. “You can call me Anakin.”

“Thank you for joining me, Anakin.” Kenobi smiled like Anakin hadn’t thrown weak protests moments ago. “It’s kind of you after my behaviour yesterday, you got my note, I hope?” He raised his eyebrows in question.

“Yes,” Anakin said earnestly, “you weren’t rude at all, there was no need to-”

“No, please, my manners were atrocious. I was ashamed of myself later, I can only say living alone has made me boorish.” Kenobi chuckled, smoothing the tablecloth, and looked up to smile softly at Anakin. Anakin looked down, fidgeting with the tablecloth edge.

“I mean it, you weren’t rude,” Anakin said quietly, still looking down and shaking his head slightly, “Mr.Watto didn’t understand it as such either.” Then he looked up wanting Kenobi to take his words seriously. “He doesn’t mean to be offensive, it’s just...h-he can’t help being curious. He does it to everyone. Everyone who he decides is important, I must say.” He finished with a nod.

“Ought I to be flattered then?” Kenobi raised an eyebrow, smiling in mischief before asking, “Why does he consider me of any importance?”

“I believe it’s because of Manderley.” Anakin replied without thinking, still caught in the mischievous tilt of Kenobi’s smile. And the smile dropped. Kenobi leaned back in his chair silently. Anakin dropped his gaze, feeling uneasy. He’d resented Watto for his intruding questions of Manderley seeing that it had made Kenobi visibly uncomfortably. And felt he had done no better by bringing it up.

“Mr. Watto...” Kenobi began slowly, “is he a relation of yours? He is older than you. Have you known him for long?” Anakin welcomed this subject remembering how it had puzzled Kenobi the day before.

“He’s my employer,” he answered with a soft smile, “he pays me ninety pounds a year to be what’s called a companion. It’s fashionable these days.” Kenobi quirked his lips surprised at the new fashion.

“I wasn’t aware companionship was something that can be bought,” he mused, “it sounds primitive... like a slave trade.”

“But I don’t think slaves are paid,” Anakin said shrugging, “and I need the money.”

“Don’t you have a family?”

“Only my mother, I have never known my father, and I’m her only child,” Anakin said without hesitation.

“She gave you a lovely name,” Kenobi said with a small smile and leaning forward, folding his arms to rest on the table, “Tell me about her.”

Anakin observed Kenobi across the table carefully as the waiter placed their lunch before them and left with a bow. He usually didn’t speak of his mother with just anyone, not because he didn’t want to but because for him his mother was not something to be spoken of casually over a table in a fancy restaurant. He revered her. His mother was one of the things he would always speak of with pride, she had worked hard and done her best with him. He would never let his discomfort in company of high society make him feel less of his upbringing.

So he began to explain how his mother had migrated to America from Canada when he was three years old. Political turmoil, labour unrest combined with the country’s struggle in the war had forced the lower class to move in search of a safe harbour. And his mother wanting nothing more than to provide a safe and secure land for her child to grow up in had decided to cross the border. He tried to describe how her personality was a vital living force in Anakin’s upbringing, that in his eyes she had a divinity about her. 

Under Kenobi’s understanding gaze and gentle prompting questions Anakin’s guard slowly fell away. He spoke of the pleasures and pains of growing up in a working neighbourhood, learning everything he knew through his mother’s experiences, and eventually leaving his mother’s side when he was fifteen to find his own footing. He didn’t hide his enthusiasm for mechanical engineering. He confessed his love for designing and building things. And finally, of accepting Watto’s offer to travel the world as a companion for a decent pay while he was working as a car mechanic in a garage in New York.

By the time Anakin winded down his talk the restaurant was filled with peoples’ chatter and plates clattering to orchestral background music. He glanced at the clock and was shocked to see it was two o’clock. They had been sitting for two hours and Anakin alone had held fort for most of it. What had Watto told him about monopolising conversation yesterday? Anakin’s cheeks were aflame in an instant.

“I’m so sorry, I-I’ve kept you-” he began to apologise. Kenobi cut it short with a wave of his hand.

“Please don’t apologise,” he said, eyes gentle, “I’ve enjoyed these two hours with you more than anything I have enjoyed in a long time.” Anakin believed he spoke the truth.

“So the companion has a holiday?” Kenobi said straightening his back and then gesturing at the sketchbook, “Plans with sketchbook perhaps?” Anakin promptly told him of a cobbled square in Monaco where he planned to do some sketching.

“Okay, I’ll drive you there then.” Kenobi said decidedly.

Anakin was again gripped by Watto’s warning of being forward with Kenobi and feared that Kenobi probably had taken his talk of Monaca has a subterfuge to win a lift. He didn’t want to be bracketed with people who sweet talked to win favours. He tried to decline politely but Kenobi heard no further before waving him off to go grab his hat and meet him outside the hotel.

Having grabbed his straw hat and gloves Anakin hurried through the lounge, barely managing a nod in return to the smile and bow from the maître d'hôtel. It only confirmed Anakin’s earlier suspicion that he had risen in importance just by having lunch with Kenobi. Gone was the man’s usual indifference as he now wished Anakin “a pleasant afternoon”. This only annoyed him.

As Anakin arrived at the top of entrance stairs Kenobi pulled up his car at the bottom of the stairs. And all annoyance was forgotten. Anakin drew in a breath as he took in the sight before him. It was a Cadillac V12 convertible, midnight blue with soft cream interior, and a true beauty. Anakin knew from memory that it was a four year old model but for the car loving mechanic in him, it was timeless. All cars were, he supposed.

He skipped the last two steps and walked around to the passenger seat. He didn’t want to think about the staff’s behaviour anymore. Kenobi shot a quick smile before driving away from the hotel.

They remained silent during the drive. It was companionable and pleasant. Anakin couldn’t help admiring the car and also glancing sideways. Kenobi had managed to perfect his earlier look with a dark brown fedora hat and a perfect fitting black leather gloves. Anakin glanced at the worn gloves clasped in his hands and decided he won’t need them since he’ll be sketching anyway. Reaching for the dashboard compartment, he shot an enquiring glance at Kenobi if it was okay. Kenobi nodded shortly without taking his eyes of the road. Anakin threw the gloves in.

Reaching the square, Anakin quickly found a bench with a nice wide view of the entire square and immersed himself in sketching the buildings and people strolling. He was trying to keep the page from turning over due to the breeze when he looked up to see Kenobi strolling leisurely in the shade along the pavement, and it was then it occurred to him that he had not asked Kenobi if he planned to stay around. He had just got out of the car with a smile and nod. And never asked how Kenobi planned to spend his time.

He hunched over his book, busily shading the sketch but his mind was not in it. He thought back to how easily he’d opened up to Kenobi at the lunch, shedding his shyness and with it his initial reluctance to speak of his private life. He had felt like Kenobi understood, and his sympathetic eyes and prompt reactions had loosened Anakin’s tongue. Did all that somehow make Kenobi pity him? Is that why he offered to drive him? Sympathising that Anakin had a hard life....

He turned the page over with unnecessary force to start a new sketch. He scanned the area for a subject and settled on Kenobi peering through a jewellery store window, clearly lost in thought. From where Anakin sat the cobbled street, tall lamps, and posh windows made a perfect frame for Kenobi. He memorised the scene and began to sketch.

“You’ve been sketching for so long.” A refined but playful voice drifted over to Anakin and he looked up. Kenobi was slowly walking towards him, hands in pocket. “I expect a masterpiece.”

Anakin opened his mouth to protest and promptly shut his book closed. He had lost track of time and hadn’t noticed Kenobi leave his place. He was half-way through the sketch but he didn’t want Kenobi to accidently see his yesterday’s sketch. He stood up bringing the book behind him as Kenobi came to stand before him, he was again smiling with mischief and Anakin had to take a step back. Kenobi took it as game and tried to reach around.

“Ah, don’t hide it now.”

“Oh no, it’s not good,” Anakin squeaked and stepped to the side to circle Kenobi. Kenobi looked pointedly. “No, seriously, the wind kept turning the page and made it hard to sketch or... concentrate.” He hurried to ask, “How long has it been?”

“It’s almost four,” Kenobi replied before asking teasingly, “So hard to concentrate that you didn’t notice the time?” Anakin blushed. He bit the inside of cheek and looked away. This time Kenobi took pity on him.

“I came to ask if you’d like to have coffee, the place is only a short distance from here.” Kenobi said softly, his eyes warm.

He was squinting up at Anakin against the sunlight. The light made his eyes look green, his beard a shade lighter, and gave his pale skin a light glow.  He looked younger and less hard or sardonic. Anakin believed he had ill-judged him. It was Watto’s chattering that had made Kenobi seem severe. He was nothing like Anakin had seen before, he was just pleasant to look at. And his own sketch was definitely poor, Anakin concluded.

“Yes, I would like that” Anakin murmured.

They walked the distance in silence, chose to sit out and picked a table looking over the sea. The afternoon sun combined with the calm blue sea and a steady breeze gave the whole place a curious glamour that Anakin knew not how to describe. Having ordered for coffee they spent a few minutes gazing over the sea

“Tell me about your job, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said turning away from the sea, “Do you enjoy it?”

 “I like it enough,” Anakin said carefully, he didn’t want to sound like he didn’t like or was complaining, “I mean, I’ve stayed in it for long now. The pay is good. Watto can be bit tiresome at times but he is generally a kind employer. It has its embarrassing moments but nothing to make me want to quit.” Kenobi titled his head in curiosity.

 “Tell me.”

It was like at the luncheon again, only this time Anakin readily began to tell him about that one time Watto’s tailor, Sleemo, had tried to bribe Anakin. As they stirred their coffee, he narrated how Sleemo had cornered him at the lifts and thrust a hundred franc note into his hands and asked him to bring Watto to his shop only, and favour his materials.

“And then when I refused he looked at me disapprovingly, from my head to shoes, and says ‘Perhaps you’d like a nice coat? Come to the shop some time and I will fix you up just fine.’ I imagined myself coming away with a coat that I’d not paid for and decided I won’t spend a second in that place. And I pushed past him, slapping that greasy note onto his chest.”

Anakin didn’t know why he shared that story but his afternoon’s experience with the maître d'hôtel seemed to have brought it up. Superficial snobbery was something he despised. People willing to slight or stick up to a person based on their social status was rather vulgar in his opinion. He told Kenobi as much.

Kenobi sipped his coffee thoughtfully before giving a dry chuckle and saying, “You’ve made a mistake in joining forces with Watto.” He gazed over the top on his cup and continued, “That incident with Sleemo and his commission? That’s nothing. It’s first of many Sleemos waiting to happen.” Placing the cup back on saucer, he leaned back, resting his elbows on the armrests and interlacing his fingers. “You either give in at some point or stay as you are and end up broke. I hope you don’t mind me saying this, Anakin, but you’re not made for this job. You’re too soft, kind, and...young, if I may say so.”

Anakin had no reply for that. He’d already admitted he took this job for the pay. And it was not like his mechanic job could’ve taken him out of the city, leave alone around the world. He was young and had wanted an experience of the real world, and Watto’s offer had come in a silver platter to him. At least, that’s how it had seemed like at that time. He bit his lip in silence.

“Have you ever thought of the future, Anakin? If Mr.Watto gets tired of this “companion” fashion, what then?

Anakin smiled back confidently.

“Well, I don’t mind it all that much. There will be more Wattos, I suppose. And I’m young, strong, and hard working, I should be able to find something soon.” Even as he spoke the words he imagined himself walking around with a sketchbook in hand, no qualifications to his name, hardly any valid working experience to speak of, applying to one employment agent after another, and probably living in a shelter-house.  

“How old are you, Anakin? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“I’m twenty-three,” Anakin offered quietly, fiddling with the spoon in the saucer. He peeked at Kenobi to see if the man was judging him for not trying harder for his prospects. The rich always judged the less fortunate.

“Ah, I know that age. It’s where a hundred thunderstorms won’t make you fear the future.” Kenobi shook his head smiling at Anakin like he was an obstinate child. Anakin blinked back. Kenobi turned to gaze at the sea, his features took a sombre shift, and his eyes became distant. When he spoke again his voice was contemplative.

“We’ve something in common, you and I. Both alone in this world...”Kenobi said with eyes still on the sea, “Oh, you’ve your mother, of course, and I’ve a sister whom I don’t see much of and an ancient grandfather whom I visit three times a year, but you would agree they won’t make for companionship.”

Inexperience once again made Anakin feel unprepared for a conversation like this. He could only speak the first thought that came to his head.

“You forget that you have a home in Manderley and I have none.”

Kenobi turned back to him, inscrutable eyes searching Anakin’s. Blinking away, Anakin hurried to finish off his coffee. At length he said, “An empty house can be as lonely as a full hotel.” Kenobi paused as if to speak something more, and for a brief moment Anakin thought he was going to finally talk about Manderley, but Kenobi glanced down and blew out a breath. And the moment was gone.

“So, are you done for the day?” Kenobi asked looking up, the easy camaraderie back, “Or would like a drive for few miles around?”

Anakin beamed at the mention of drive and so it was decided. He knew not where to and didn’t bother asking. He didn’t want to know, he realised, as long as Kenobi would spend time with him and didn’t retreat behind that wall of silence at the mention of Manderley. Anakin told himself not to mention it again. The wind tore in gusts around the corners of the square as they got into the car and drove away toward to Monte Carlo.

Driving through Monte with Kenobi along his side was entirely different to what he’d ever cared to notice. They passed by the dancing harbour with its fluttering paper boats and merry sailors on the quay. The low sun in the sky facing their car warmed his skin and the sheen of sweat was quickly cooled by the rush of wind passing by. Anakin took off his straw hat to let the wind breeze through his hair. Closing his eyes he smiled at the feel of it.

Soon they left behind civilization to speed through long roads climbing the hills. They circled the hill, climbing new heights as the road winded endlessly. The car had mercurial speed and they drove dangerously fast. The danger pleased Anakin.

How different was this car to the square old-fashioned Daimler Watto hired for their placid afternoon drives. How different was this side of Monte to the flashy lights of exquisite hotels. Maybe it was the change in scenery or maybe just the change in routine but it made Anakin wonder why he had written off Monte Carlo as artificial. It was far from artificial when seen like this, at the right time and with the right companion.

Smiling, Anakin turned to look at his companion who wasn’t smiling, and was instead detached and silent. He was staring straight ahead as the car came to a slow stop. Anakin realised they’d reached the summit, the edge of the road bordering a vertical slope that dropped into vacancy. They got out of the car in silence.

Anakin looked below at the way they’d come that stretched away winding into the depth. He sobered at the sight, not having realised how quickly they’d ate up the distance to reach this height. The wind here was nothing like the breeze that had brushed his cheeks. It was cold and added to the chill of silence up here. Anakin felt ill at ease and turned to find Kenobi standing silently by the vertical slope, looking down the drop.

Anakin walked over to stand beside him at the slope and looked beneath them. It was a fall of perhaps two thousand feet. The sea was like crinkled chart, spreading out to the horizon, but way below where they stood it crashed mercilessly at the shore boulders. The contrast to the calm horizon and the beating shoreline was alarming. But it was the same sea. Anakin shuddered.

“Do you know this place?” Anakin asked and realised he sounded nervous. Kenobi didn’t reply. “Have you been here before?” Anakin pressed but his voice quavered.

Kenobi turned to look at him and a stab of anxiety shot through Anakin. Kenobi was looking at him without recognition in his eyes as if he had forgotten all about Anakin. He eyed Anakin warily before turning to look down again. How long had he stood there to lose himself in the labyrinth of his thoughts? Where Anakin did not exist? For a moment Anakin considered maybe Kenobi was in some sort of trace, but the edge of a two thousand feet fall was not the place to wait it out to end.

“It’s getting late, shall we go home?” Anakin asked this time a bit louder, reaching to touch his elbow lightly and half-smiling to cover his uneasiness. He wouldn’t have deceived a child with that.

Kenobi seemed to come clear of his haze at the voice and turned with wide eyes. He reached to catch Anakin’s elbow in a firm grip.

“I am so sorry, Anakin,” Kenobi said solemnly, looking ashamed, “I shouldn’t have brought us here, I’ve frightened you, that was an unforgivable thing for me to do.” He pulled Anakin toward the car and guided him back into his seat. Then walked around to his driver seat and started the engine.

“Don’t worry, the turn is far easier than it looks.” Kenobi said reassuringly. Anakin gave a short nod and remained quiet. Kenobi manoeuvred the car gently and began descending the slope in a gradual pace.

“So you have been here before?” Anakin managed once they’d cleared the first narrow twist. He felt his strain leave him as the distance from the drop grew. Kenobi gave a silent nod. "Has it changed?"

“No, it has not changed.”

Anakin pressed no further. They went down the twisting road at a careful pace and without a word. The setting sun had begun to cast shadows along the quickly darkening path. Kenobi still seemed distant but was present enough to drive them cautiously. His thoughts had made him grim and Anakin longed for the man he had been in the cobbled square. Curious, friendly, and that bit of mischief. The lights of Monte Carlo began to show in the distance below.

“The west country is unlike anything in the world, especially at this time of the year,” Kenobi began suddenly making Anakin whip his head around, “The sea is like...slate. Still cold after the long winter. From the terrace at Manderley, you can hear the tide, the waves sweeping into the little bay.” Anakin’s breath quickened. This was the first time Kenobi had spoken of Manderley without prompting. And Anakin hadn’t expected Kenobi to speak of it by himself.

“Daffodils are in bloom, stirring in the evening breeze, they are massed together like an army, you can pick as many as you want and still won’t be able to thin their ranks.” Kenobi huffed out a breath, smiling at some memory. “There are primroses too and it’s early yet for the bluebells. But I never would have them in the house. You must walk in the woods to see them in their best, inside the house in vases they become dull and listless. You should never pick the wild flowers. Never.” Kenobi said softly, “You should always leave them where they are.” He nodded thoughtfully.

“I have roses in the house at Manderley for eight months of every year,” Kenobi said glancing at Anakin and smiling softly, “Roses and Lilac. Great branches of lilac.”

Anakin could see Kenobi’s adoration for his Manderley. Talking about it, and the distance between them and the drop, had made him less grave. Anakin drank in every word he spoke, knowing he would never have the fortune to gaze upon a place like Manderley and Kenobi may not be so forthcoming about it again.

“‘There are too many scents at Manderley’ my sister always complained, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. It’s _intoxicating_.”

That was the strongest word Kenobi had used in their brief time together and Anakin liked the sound of it. The thought that something could be so overpowering in its appeal that it would leave one dazed, especially someone like Kenobi, made Anakin giddy and speechless. It was like being a child again hearing about angels of immense beauty.

Dusk had settled around them. The car joined the many lights and sounds of the streets of Monte Carlo and the clatter jagged on Anakin’s nerves. He had begun to enjoy their quiet bubble and this was an unwelcome climax to it. Their drive was almost over and Manderley was hundreds of miles away. Soon they would come to the hotel and the reality of it made him glum.

Kenobi pulled over at the bottom of the entrance stairs and Anakin got out. Just as he was about to shut the door he remembered, “Oh, my gloves!” and opened the dashboard compartment. He pulled them out in a hurry and a little book tumbled out onto the car floor. Anakin picked it up to return in its place while peering at its title.

“Do you like poetry?” Kenobi asked casually.

Anakin nodded. Not exactly poetry but he liked reading stories and anything that had a story to tell. His job rarely allowed him to make a well informed choice in the books he read. But he appreciated whatever he’d obtained.

“You can take it and read it if you like,” Kenobi said with a shrug. Anakin clutched the book tightly and nodded gladly. He wanted, and was happy, to possess something of Kenobi since he wasn’t sure when he would get a chance to be with him again and this day was already over.

“I will be dining out so I won’t see you at the dinner,” Kenobi stated confirming Anakin’s thoughts, “Thank you for today, Anakin, I really appreciate it.” He smiled softly before pulling away from Anakin. Anakin tried not to feel like a despondent child whose treat was over but the prospect of a lonely dinner and the empty hours ahead was miserable.

He walked back to his room. He stowed away his hat, gloves and sketchbook, and put the little book in his coat pocket before going to check on Watto.

“What did you do with yourself all day?” Watto enquired almost the moment Anakin stepped through his bedroom door.

“I went to sketch at the cobbled square in Monaco I’d told you about,” Anakin answered and then added, “And went to tennis practice with the professional in the afternoon.”

Knowing Watto, saying anything of meeting Kenobi would only make him implore Anakin to ask Kenobi to pay him a visit. Anakin wasn’t interested. Kenobi wouldn’t to do it anyway. And, most importantly, he didn’t wish to speak of his time with Kenobi to anyone. It was theirs. _His_.

“Well, at least, something good will come of my sickness.” Watto said pathetically, as if his illness should be given credit for Anakin’s improvement in tennis in the future. Anakin took his leave promptly and went down to the lounge.

He sat in a chair behind a pillar and ordered coffee. Seeing him sitting alone the waiter appeared bored. This return to normalcy was a welcome. Anakin sat back and took out the little book of poems. It was a well-thumbed and worn volume. He imagined the book must be a favourite of Kenobi’s if he read it so frequently and kept it close by in the car compartment. He’d told Watto he’d come away in a hurry. And had remembered to bring this book along...

He opened at the title page and there was a handwritten dedication.

‘ _To Ben – from Satine, 17 May.’_

It was elegant slant hand writing. A blob of ink marred the edge of the page. Anakin supposed at the end of the word ‘from’ the writer must’ve given the pen a shake to make the ink flow freely. The ink had then came a little thick so that the name Satine stood out black and strong, the sloping S of Satine, standing tall and dwarfing other letters.

Anakin shut the book with a snap. He reached for a magazine at a nearby chair just as the waiter brought him his coffee. He looked through the pictures and read carefully but when he finished he hadn’t understood a word.

Watto’s voice from their conversation the day before crept into his mind, standing inside the lift Watto had sighed sympathetically.

“A terrible tragedy it was,” Watto had said shaking his head, “the papers were full of it. They say he never talks about it, never speaks her name. She was drowned you know, in the sea, in the bay near Manderley...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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> Please, let me know how you feel in the comments, if you like to :)
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> My Obikin tumblr blog : [princeobiwan](https://princeobiwan.tumblr.com/)


	3. Chapter 3

_‘Thank you for yesterday – Kenobi’_

It was breakfast hour and Anakin was spending it arranging white roses into a vase, occasionally shooting a glance at the card beside it. It had been a surprise that morning when he’d answered the door and found the lift boy standing with a bouquet of white rose, and was informed it was for him. He had read the simple hand-written card again and again before thinking of reaching for the bouquet. He had not expected any contact from Kenobi after their last evening’s tense ending. So this gesture had certainly brightened his morning.

Satisfied with his handiwork he stepped back to admire the vase before reaching for the card. Smiling, he took it to his wardrobe and placed it in one of his coats inside pocket. He wanted it close on him, and didn’t trust himself placing it anywhere and not forgetting about it. He checked himself in the mirror before walking out of the door with one last glance at the roses before closing the door.

He went to Watto’s room. Asked the nurse after his health, it looked like the influenza would be staying for now.

“With me cooped up, you haven’t got enough to do, that’s the problem.” Watto croaked.

“I was thinking I’ll simply continue with the tennis practice.” He’d felt guilty about his lie later in the night. Not that he’d lied, he’d done it before, but how easily he’d decided to lie and it had come to him. But he didn’t regret not sharing his secret either. So tennis practice was staying.

“Did he teach you that well?” Watto gave a sidelong glance, Anakin took a deep breath. “It’s not like you to keep a routine.” It wasn’t correct but Anakin was not in the mood to protest.

“I don’t have much to do around here.”

“Ah, yes, don’t stay in your room mooning all day, make the most of your free time.” Watto waved a hand in dismissal. Anakin backed out with a nod.

Downstairs, he went to the help desk to check if the professional was free any time of the day and if he could book a session. He stood drumming his fingers as the assistant checked for available slots. He wasn’t interested in tennis but he didn’t want to feel like a traitor either. He could attempt to lessen the weight of his easy insincerity.

“Anakin?”

Anakin turned to find Kenobi walking towards him, clearly having finished his breakfast. He stepped away from the desk to meet him.

“Good Morning, Mr.Kenobi.” Anakin couldn’t hide the smile on his face that Kenobi’s appearance brought.

“Hello,” Kenobi said looking over Anakin once before asking, “Is everything alright with Mr.Watto?” and nodding in the direction of the help desk.

“Oh, he is fine,” Anakin assured before adding, “I-I mean, fine as-as in he still has influenza but it hasn’t gotten worse or anything.” He shook his head for good measure.

“Oh,” Kenobi said looking indifferent, “did you need anything?”

“Huh, no, I was checking to see if I can get a practice session with the tennis professional.”

Kenobi only raised his eyebrows in question.

“I-I told Mr.Watto that I went to practice tennis yesterday, and told him nothing about our drive,” Anakin said gravely. He did not feel the need to explain himself for the unnecessary lie, it was his choice, and Kenobi had to accept that. And Kenobi did not look least bit concerned about it, to his relief.

“So you are making up for it by actually going for a practice?” Kenobi asked not trying to hide the amusement from his voice or his face. His eyes twinkled.

“Yes, and it’s not like I-” Anakin stopped himself before confessing he had nothing else to do. He still did not like the idea of Kenobi mistaking Anakin’s situation as a call for help and pitying him with another favour.

“Yes?”

“No, it’s nothing,” Anakin said with a slight shake of his head, “Thank you for the roses this morning, they were perfectly lovely.”

Kenobi beamed. And Anakin couldn’t remember the last time he had made someone smile. Or, his heart kicking up its beating. He stared at the mole on Kenobi’s forehead.

“I’m glad you liked them, Anakin,” Kenobi said still smiling, “I felt I should make up for giving you a fright yesterday and also thank you for being patient with me.” His eyes were warm and sincere.

“It was nothing really,” Anakin murmured, “But I love the roses.”

“I hoped you would,” Kenobi said softly, “I thought of you...and white roses seemed the obvious choice for you.”

Anakin looked between Kenobi’s eyes, not quite sure if he got the gist of this thought but also not sure if there was any to search for. He cleared his throat to fill the silence and smiled. He became conscious of their position standing in the hotel lobby, and people walking around them. Kenobi seemed to realise the same as he glanced around and shifted weight on his feet.

“So you are serious about this tennis?” Kenobi asked tilting his head to the side.

“I, um-”

“Let’s go on a drive, Anakin, you can choose the place,” Kenobi said, “I promise no cliffs this time.”

Anakin huffed before nodding. He found that he couldn’t deny Kenobi and, most importantly, himself.

***********

Anakin doesn’t remember much of the days that followed after. They went by like breeze. And as it happens with breeze, he only remembers how he felt in that time. He had forgotten the places they visited in their drives, their conversations over uneventful matters, but he will always remember how every time he’d pushed past the swing doors, even before the doorman could help, and run down the stairs to meet Kenobi for their drives.

It became a routine for them to drive to new locations every day. They met in the parking area, Anakin jogging all the way to the car, Kenobi would be reading a newspaper, and when he saw him approach he would smile and toss the paper behind in the back seat. Kenobi would then pass the map to him with a grin, “Where does the companion want to go today?” and Anakin would find a place to visit. And off they drove.

He will remember how they snapped their fingers on the brass of a yacht and laughed together looking at each other, how he sat with wind blowing his hair happy in their silence as they drove, how when they turned round a bend he had waved at a passing girl and she had waved back with a laugh. His stolen glances at Kenobi, his mindless questions to have Kenobi explain things to him so he could hear his refined voice, and his wild heartbeat on that rare occasion when Kenobi had laughed while chiding ‘ _An_ akin’.

He will remember feeling the first fever of desire. They had stopped for a walk around a shopping area. Anakin had roamed the place absently, then stood looking through a shop window at nothing in particular, and idled for how long he knew not.

Snapping out of stillness he turned to find Kenobi watching him, leaning casually against the car’s hood parked close to the pavement. Their eyes locked. Anakin grew hot around the collar, his neck flushing in a way the sun had nothing to do with, but didn’t look away. There was something in Kenobi’s look that he hadn’t seen before, he couldn’t name it but it made him want more of it. Only for him.

It was Kenobi who finally broke the eye contact, dropping gaze to his shoes and jiggling the car eyes. Anakin blinked to look away and clear his head before crossing the short distance to join Kenobi. Neither spoke of what had transpired, driving off to next location.

Nights hadn’t been the same after that day. The Noble Gentleman in the portrait no more at looked at Anakin in observation. He knew Anakin now. His eyes held something deep within them. It made Anakin’s pulse race, whether it was in excitement or nervousness or something else he never knew. All he knew and remembered was that he often woke up with a pounding heart and an aching want.

And never knew how a fortnight had passed.

***********

He went around the room arranging the cushions, tying the curtains away from the window, and then finally picked up his coat and flung it over his shoulders, pushing his arms through the sleeves.

“Can I go now, Mr.Watto?”

Watto paused from reading the newspaper to gaze over the rim of his reading glasses and gave a reproachful look. “From the amount of tennis practice you’ve had you should be ready for the Wimbledon.”

Anakin’s neck prickled in unease. He had not played tennis once since deigning to ask for the professional’s schedule, and it was a little over a fortnight ago. He wondered what’d given him the resolve to cling to his lie and why he still did not wish to tell the truth. He should’ve done it the very next morning after he drove with Kenobi in his car. Now it was too late to broach the subject.

Watto was out of bed, feeling good enough to walk about his room, and was currently sitting legs crossed in an armchair with newspaper folded in his lap, waiting for Anaki’s reply. When he saw that it wasn’t coming he shook the newspaper straight, grumbling under his breath before turning to Anakin again.

“Oh, how many times, Ani, don’t sulk,” he chided “I only said so because I don’t know what you do with yourself all day, it can’t be all tennis.” He shook his head and went on, “You never have any sketch to show me, and keep forgetting to buy me Taxol when you go shopping. With me laid up you got a good excuse to not go out and see places, travel is supposed to broaden one’s mind, young boys want nothing more than to travel and I haven’t met a more reluctant youth than you....” He gave a tired sigh. “At least I can hope your tennis has improved. Do you still play underhand?”

Underhand is what Anakin felt like he was playing, with Watto. He replied with a quiet ‘yes’.

“You must come up to the net more, Ani,” Watto said disapprovingly, “Off you go now.”

He walked to the parking area, at usual one o’ clock, feeling none of his usual eagerness. His talk with Watto had made him realise how quickly the time had flown. It was only a matter of time before Watto would declare their time in Monte is up. They’ll be off to a new place. He didn’t want to think what it would mean to him and his secret. He spotted Kenobi sitting in his car reading newspaper, not having noticed Anakin yet. _I’ll miss him_ , he thought.

Kenobi looked up and smiled, tossing the paper over his shoulder onto the back seat. Anakin returned the smile and quickened the pace. He climbed into his seat with a quiet greeting.

“How is the companion feeling this morning?” Kenobi teased.

“As usual, very well,” Anakin mumbled taking the map out of the dashboard. He opened and scanned the names furtively. He wanted to go far, drive as long as possible with Kenobi, and lengthen their time together. He picked a place by the Mediterranean shore, an hour and half drive, west of Monte.

“Ah, good,” Kenobi said frowning at the map, “it’s been ages since we drove west.”

_Ages?_ Anakin resisted scoffing. They have spent only a fortnight. Not ages! Ages are what he wished they had.... He hummed in agreement. And off they went.

They passed through a myriad of villages. Anakin sitting with his arms crossed, murmuring directions when Kenobi asked for the next turn. Taking a brief break, they had lunch at a little cafe. Kenobi talking about the politics back in England, wondering how some new rulings would affect the estates in Scotland. Anakin watched Kenobi, letting his words wash over him, nodding occasionally and not saying a single word of his own.

The place he’d chosen was not much different from Monte, comprising mainly of harbour and ships, but relatively quieter. They went around for a while before finding a secluded terrace balcony overlooking the bay. Parking the car, they went down a long flight of steps to the terrace which further led down to the sea. They decided to stay on the balcony. It was lined by a balustrade and had a bench under a stone archway.

Sitting on the bench, Anakin could hear the lapping waves. It was tranquil, different from the crashing waves he’d witnessed from the cliff on their first drive. In the distance, the boats in the harbour were being rocked gently by the waves. The sun made the calm sea look aquamarine here. A seagull, or two, circled the afternoon skies. And the breeze caressing his skin carried a salty smell. All of this could be soothing if one remained still and closed their eyes in meditation.

‘This moment now, this must never be lost,’ Anakin thought and closed his eyes to make the experience lasting. But the voice in his head whispered all of this will be gone, belonging to the past, and become a memory. There was something chilling and melancholy in the thought. When the eyes will open it won’t be the same, the sun would be a little changed in the sky, casting perhaps another shadow.

“What are you thinking, Anakin?”

Anakin opened his eyes to see Kenobi watching him curiously. He was leaning sideways against the balustrade, an elbow resting on top of the railing, and legs crossed at the ankles. He looked relaxed. Anakin closed his eyes again and sighed before opening them to look at Kenobi.

“I wish there was an invention,” Anakin said impulsively, “like a bottled memory, like scent. And it never faded in colours, or never lost its essence. Then, one could uncork the bottle whenever wanted and it would be like living the memory all over again.”

He waited for Kenobi’s reply, who tried to smile but his brows furrowed and eyes searched Anakin’s face. Anakin wasn’t sure if Kenobi was looking to tease or mock his fantasy.

“And what particular memories do you wish to uncork in your young life?” Kenobi asked finally.

“I...I’m not sure,” Anakin said looking down at his hands, and then took a deep breath and looked up, “I’d like to keep this moment and never forget it.”

“Is that meant to be a compliment to the day, or to my company?” Kenobi said huffing at the end like he wasn’t sure of Anakin’s words. Still leaning against the balustrade, he turned fully to face Anakin, arms crossed, and continued to watch in curiosity.

In that moment, Anakin realised how probably Kenobi would never understand the enormity of Anakin’s thoughts or what had caused them. Even if he did, it would be so trivial to him. Anakin’s worries won’t be the same, or mean the same, to him. He was a man of experience, had probably lived through dilemmas and troubles, and kept going. What were Anakin’s worries to Kenobi? Or anybody?

He knew then, in a flash, why he had never shared his secret with Watto. Not that he would be angry or shocked, but that he wouldn’t believe Anakin’s story. He would brush it off with a shrug of his shoulder and say patiently, ‘Ani, it’s extremely kind and generous of him to take you driving, but are _you_ sure that they don’t bore him?’

He didn’t want Watto to tarnish his time with Kenobi, treating it like a matter of little importance. Because it was not to Anakin. He wouldn’t let anybody laugh or talk it off as nothing. Not even Kenobi. Their time together was theirs, and theirs alone. It was not to be at anyone’s mercy. Not to Watto’s incredulousness, not to Kenobi’s past experiences. Both of which would lessen the value Anakin attached to these moments.

Throwing discretion to the wind, fiercely, he said, “I wish I was a man of thirty-six dressed in the finest black suit with a pearl white silk cravat at my throat, smartest linen gloves on my hands, and my way was the only way things existed around me and I wouldn’t have to care for anything else.”

At least then people would value his words and thoughts. No one would look at him in sympathy like he was a child dreaming of the impossible.

“You wouldn’t be here with me if you were,” Kenobi said evenly but his eyes were serious as they looked over Anakin. All fight left Anakin at those words. He turned his head away to stare at the distant boats.

“Why?” he asked quietly “Why do you ask me for your drives? I know you are being kind and generous but....why choose me?” He straightened up and turned to look Kenobi in the eyes, and saw disappointment in them.

“I ask you, Anakin,” Kenobi said slowly, his face devoid of any expression, “because you are not dressed in black suit and silk cravat, without caring for _anything_. These are not _my_ drives, but _ours_. And I’m certainly not being _kind_ and _generous_ in asking you.”

“It is all very well for you to say that,” Anakin said, “you know everything there is to know about me, well, there isn’t much I admit...except trying to stay on my feet,” he couldn’t stop the dry chuckle at this, and then giving a slow shake of his head continued, “but you, I know nothing more about you than what I knew the first day we met.”

“And what did you know then?” Kenobi shot without missing a beat. Anakin bristled.

“That you lived at Manderley and- and that you had lost your wife.”

Your wife. He had said it at last. After fighting for days to not think about it, after biting his tongue for days to not ruin their time together, he had now said it easily. _Your wife_. It lingered in the air between them and, because Kenobi had received it silently, the words magnified into something appalling. Anakin wished he could call it back. He saw the tall dark slanting S in the little book of poems. How it had towered over every letter in the page, and how his invisible words were doing the same in the space between them. His momentary loss of temper was now going to cost him their friendship.

The silence became minutes and he knew everything is over. _He hates me now_ , he thought, _he’ll never forgive me for this_. But a voice from a small part of his brain that sounded like his mother’s told him, ‘ _You don’t know that.’_

Kenobi was watching Anakin motionless. He looked more than ever like the medieval Noble Gentleman Anakin had imagined him to be. Gone were the warmth in the eyes, the soft curve of his mouth, and the curious interest in his face. In that moment, he belonged to stand on the steps of a castle, his cloak flung back, looking down on everyone. Anakin took a shaky breath.

“You talked about capturing memories in a bottle,” Kenobi spoke, his voice quiet, barely audible over the lapping waves, “and living a chosen moment of the past again. I’m afraid I think rather differently from you.” He looked to the side and then down, fixing on a spot on the floor between them. “All my memories are.... I’d rather not live them again.” He uncrossed his legs and turned sideways to gaze over the sea. “Something happened a year ago that altered my whole life, and I want to erase every single moment in my life up to that time. Those days are over. And I...I want to live again.” His voice was heavy with longing, and if Anakin dared to name it, a hint of desperation lay beneath the surface.

“Coming to Monte Carlo was my way of putting a stopper on that bottle of memories, and I don’t wish to uncork it,” Kenobi said with a small shake of head, “It doesn’t work for me, sometimes the scent is too strong for the bottle, and try to draw the cork out.” He was smiled ruefully, his eyes distant and sad. “It happened on our first drive together, against my better judgement, I followed the allure to that edge of the precipice. I was there some years ago with my wife.”

He turned to fix Anakin with an intense look in his eyes. Anakin couldn’t look away even if he’d wished to, and he didn’t want to. “You asked me if it was still the same, and it was just the same. But it was oddly impersonal. There was no trace of the other time with her. And I believe it may have been because you were with me.” Now he shifted so he was fully facing Anakin and his gaze remained intense, and when he spoke his voice strained with sincerity of his admission. “You have blotted out the past for me, Anakin, far more effectively than all the bright lights of Monte Carlo.”

Anakin dropped his gaze. How could he say that? How could he just say those words and not know how they would hit Anakin like a blow to his chest? _All the bright lights of Monte Carlo_. Anakin would’ve huffed at those words in incredulity had they be spoken by anyone else but it was Kenobi who had spoken them. Kenobi who could block out the light from the sun in Anakin’s vision, whose very presence overwhelmed Anakin’s senses more than all the sweet scent, warm breeze, and murmuring waves of the sea could. Until all Anakin could see and sense was Kenobi alone. And it didn’t scare Anakin how much he _wanted_ it to be that way.

But it scared him that Kenobi would say those words and may not really mean them, not in the way they meant to Anakin, at least. It scared him that soon any day he would leave Monte and leave Anakin to live with the dull colours around him. It would be a dream shattering like glass and the shards pricking his eyes. He closed his eyes at the phantom sensation and felt pricking behind the lids. If he opened his eyes the tears would spill and he would look like a child that Kenobi probably thought him to be. He turned away and blinked to clear them out of his vision.

“....speech to me. So damn your idea of my kindness and gener- Anakin?”

Kenobi crossed the short distance and knelt before Anakin. Without a word he drew out his handkerchief and held it out as Anakin stubbornly watched the sea with a blurred and steady stare. The despicable teardrops held onto his lashes, and his eyes filled up with fresh tears, clouding his vision.  He gave up and snatched the handkerchief, and dabbed furiously. His adult pride wouldn’t let them to spill onto his cheeks and further humiliate himself.

“I’m so sorry, Anakin, I should’ve checked my words,” Kenobi said, eyes troubled and concerned, “I did not meant it to be harsh.” Anakin did not understand what harshness Kenobi was referring to, he hadn’t heard a word over the sound of his own thoughts. He blinked at Kenobi slowly. “But I meant every word I said before, Anakin, you must understand that I ask you because I want you and your company.” Kenobi reached out and took hold of Anakin’s right hand between both of his and pressed his lips to the back of it. He looked up, his eyes aquamarine like the sea behind him, and curved his lips in a soft smile.

“Anakin, I don’t say this lightly but you’ve taken me out of myself, out of my despondency and introspection, both of which have been my devils for a year.” He gave a light squeeze to Anakin’s hand to emphasise the words.

Anakin idly thought of those fictional heroines who looked pretty when they cried and wondered how he must look right now with his glazed eyes and pink nose. What did it matter? Kenobi would drop him at the hotel, as usual, and go away somewhere alone. He probably lost himself in memories Anakin knew nothing of, could never share, and wander down the years gone by. The years were a gulf between them. He will always stand away, his back turned, on a further shore. Anakin can only watch him like the sun in the horizon. It could never matter.

“If you do not like, or want, to have these drives, then you don’t have to, you can tell me if you don’t want to,” Kenobi said releasing his hand and standing up. “What do you want to do now, Anakin?”

“I want to go home.” Anakin said quietly and looked up, and seeing Kenobi nod with a frown he added, “Not because I don’t like the drives, the nurse is going out for the evening and Mr.Watto wants me to join him for dinner.” Kenobi smiled and nodded.

They ascended the steps in silence and got into the car. Kenobi passed over his coat to Anakin, and reached out to straighten the front when Anakin put them around his shoulders, leaving the sleeves hanging.

“Forget what I said about my past, it’s finished and done with. Let’s not talk about it again.” Kenobi murmured, watching from his seat. Anakin couldn’t agree more. He nodded his agreement. Kenobi smiled, the curious look returning to his eyes again as he scanned Anakin’s face. “You are old enough to be my son and I don’t know how to deal with you.” He shook his head before turning to start the engine and pulling away from the curb.

Anakin sat frowning at the dashboard. He could argue the logic since there was none in that statement. He was twenty-three! Kenobi must be ten or twelve years his senior. That’s not a normal age for parental obligations. Kenobi should know how absurd his words were. Unless he meant them rhetorically which did not make it better for Anakin? Because it would mean Kenobi indeed saw him like a child. And he did not know how to deal with that.

“Just don’t be upset with me again,” Anakin said quietly after few minutes. He could ask for that, at least, in the short time left for them. He did not know how much time was left but knew it was soon coming to an end. And Kenobi getting upset with him in that time was the last thing he wanted.

“Oh, Anakin” Kenobi murmured before reaching out to put an arm around Anakin’s shoulder and pulling him to his side, his other hand still on the steering wheel. Anakin shifted so he could rest his head on Kenobi’s shoulder, his hair brushing the man’s neck. It felt natural. Kenobi kept the car at a reasonable speed and held Anakin pressed to his side as the car turned a corner, and did not let go even after the corner had passed.

“Promise me something,” Kenobi said softly, and Anakin made a prompting noise, “Promise me that you’ll never wear a....okay wear all the finest suits in England, silk cravats, and gloves, if that is your wish but promise me you’ll never grow to demand things to be only your way, that you’ll consider others in your life, and never grow to not care about anything? You’ve a caring heart, don’t ever lose it, and please don’t lose yourself.”

Anakin gazed up and Kenobi glanced down, “I promise.”

Kenobi beamed down at him and Anakin smiled back. Then Kenobi glanced at road ahead and bent to the side to press lips into the dark blond hair covering the top of his head, and gave his shoulder a firm squeeze. And everything was back to normal between them.

“And one more thing, Anakin,” Kenobi said still keeping his hold on Anakin, “My family always call me Obi-Wan, I’d like you to do the same. You’ve been formal with me for long enough.” Anakin nodded against the shoulder, his head still resting.

The rest of the journey passed in comfortable silence.

***********

Anakin had dinner with Watto in his room and later settled for a game of bridges, for Watto had despaired he was ‘wicked bored’. Anakin said nothing of his day.

At end of the game gathering his cards together, Watto asked casually, “Is Mr. Kenobi still in the hotel?”

Anakin hesitated a moment before answering, “Yes, I believe he is.”

Had the nurse seen them outside the hotel? And rushed back to inform Watto? Maybe Watto ran into the tennis professional who told him Anakin hadn’t shown his face at all? He waited for Watto’s attack as he mildly gathered his own set of cards.

“Funny man, I sent him messages inviting him to visit me,” Watto yawned, “But I suppose the poor man is still too wretched to mingle with society. I only want him to be not so alone all the time...” Watto straightened his pillow idly. Anakin put the cards back in the box slowly, his mind feeling numb with relief. “But what an attractive creature, it’s sad he is such a broken man.”

“What was she like?” Anakin asked casually before he could stop himself. He didn’t know what devil possessed him but he wouldn’t get another chance like this. It’d nagged at him that he’d missed reading a tragedy like that in papers, probably because they were in the continent when it had happened, and he wanted to know badly. He kept his face neutral.

“I never saw her personally,” Watto said with a shrug, “but I was told she was absolutely lovely. Exquisitely turned out, and brilliant in every way. I used to hear about the tremendous parties the couple gave at Manderley. The handsomest couple I was told. Kenobi simply adored her. It was all very sudden and tragic. They say it broke him completely, hardly left his rooms for days.” Watto tutted in sympathy before asking for his cigarette box. Anakin passed it mutely.

He put back the cards box in the drawer subconsciously and took his leave. He closed the door to his room and changed his clothes in practiced motions. He was not there at all. He was following a phantom in his mind. He slipped under covers and prayed for sleep to come.

Around two in the morning he tossed the covers aside and slid out of his bed. Crossing the room, he opened the window and sat down on the chair with legs tucked up close to chest and arms around the knees. The sea was silent in the distance. The moon’s reflection rippled on the sea’s black surface. It’s shape shifting and wavering due to the constant motion of the waves. It was hypnotic but not enough to distract him from the shadowy form that had had taken shape in his head.

Her features were blurred, her eyes, hair, and skin still uncertain but Anakin knew they were the loveliest in the world. With an enduring beauty and an unforgettable smile, she was exquisite. Her voice lingering in the air as she laughed and threw her arms around Obi-Wan’s shoulders from behind, to lean over his shoulder, and looked at the present in his hands. Her present to him. _To Ben_. _From Satine_

Obi-Wan smiled, his eyes sparkling, as he tore off the paper and string on the present. Must be his birthday. The smile breaking in a delighted huff of laugh as he saw it was a little book of poems. His eyes lit up as he read the words on the first page. She pressed her lips to his temple while he read the words aloud.

Ben. She called him Ben. It was familiar, intimate, and easy on the tongue. His family could always call him Obi-Wan. Grandfathers, uncles, sisters...and people like Anakin. How many times she must have called him like that. Her voice carrying through the house and down the adored gardens. And Obi-Wan would always know it could be only her calling him because only she called him Ben.

And he had to call him Obi-Wan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick Note : Since it'll not be explicitly mentioned in the fic, I wanted to make it clear that Obi-Wan's age in this fic is 35, he is 12yrs Anakin's senior. If anyone finds the age gap troubling now is the time to quit. I felt I should mention this since Anakin wonders about their age in that scene.
> 
> Please let me know your thoughts in the comments :) If you want to, of course :)
> 
> My Obikin tumblr blog : [princeobiwan](https://princeobiwan.tumblr.com/)


	4. Chapter 4

Eyes slowly fluttering open, Anakin glanced out of the open window to see the dull early morning light in the sky. He frowned at it before lifting his head and looking around the room, his neck protested at the movement, having rested too long at an odd angle against the chair headrest, but he stretched out his legs and arms to get the blood circulating properly. Something had woken him but he couldn’t place it. Had it been voices, or doors opening?

A knock at his door brought his attention to the door, he stood immediately and crossed the space to snatch his robe lying at the foot of the bed. He walked over to the door while thrusting his arms through the sleeves and wrapping it hurriedly around himself. Opening the door he found a waiter standing at the door looking in a hurry and about to knock again.

“Mr. Watto is asking for you, sir,” the young man said shortly before giving a nod and walking out of the suite.

Anakin stared after him before stepping fully out of his room. Crossing the lobby of the suite he opened the door to Watto’s room. Almost immediately Watto’s excited voice assaulted his still groggy nerves.

“There you are! How many times should I call for you? That man took pity on my poor throat and came to rouse you at last,” Watto said throwing his arms around unnecessarily. At least that explained the cause of disturbance to his deep sleep, but why had it been necessary?

“I received a call this morning from my friend Sebulba, you know him, of course? He is sailing for New York. His daughter has a threatened appendix, and they’ve decided to go home. That’s decided for me, as well,” Watto said gesturing with the tea cup in his hand. Anakin held his breath knowing what was coming.

“We’re going too. I’m sick of Europe, and we can come back in the early fall. How do you like the idea of seeing New York again?” Watto asked expectantly.

Anakin could only stare back, even with the few seconds of guessing what came next, the words had come as a stab in his chest. The thought of going back to New York was worse than any physical pain he’d ever endured. His misery must’ve shown on his face, for Watto looked momentarily astonished then quickly turned annoyed.

“What an odd, unsatisfactory child you are. I can’t get a read on you at all. Don’t you realise that young boys in your position with no money can have the grandest fun in New York? And you are from New York! There you can mingle with plenty of boys your age and excitement. All in your own class. You have nobody but that tennis pro here. Also you won’t be at my beck and call as much as you are here. Oh, don’t look so miserable for heaven’s sake! I thought you didn’t care for Monte?” Watto said, exasperated, searching Anakin’s face for any agreement with his words.

“I’ve got used to it,” Anakin replied quietly, his mind in conflict.

“Well, you’ll just have to get used to New York, that’s all,” Watto said irritably, before schooling his face and swinging his legs off the bed. “Without any second thoughts, I told Sebulba that we’ll be joining him in Paris, and from there we can leave together. Make our reservations on the first train leaving here, and check for a list of immediate sailings from Cherbroug. Your morning will be so busy that you won’t have any time to mope over leaving Monte.” He gave a deprecating laugh at that, and went to the telephone to ring all his friends.

Anakin rushed back to his bedroom and locked the door, and sat down on the mat. It had happened at last. After all his dreading for this moment it had still managed to take him by surprise and knock the breath out of his lungs. It was over. His time with Obi-wan had finally come to an end. All because Watto was bored. And what was he to do? Make reservations, check listings, call the desk to prepare their check out bills, pack their suitcases, and see that everything went smoothly.

He put his head in his hands. Perhaps, he should say his goodbye to Obi-Wan in the lounge? What was he going to say to him? ‘I’ve never thanked you properly for being so kind’, and Obi-Wan would wave it off, ‘Maybe you can write to me, Obi-Wan?’ ‘Yes, of course, what’s the address?’ ‘Well, I’ll have to let you know.’ Obi-Wan would probably shake his hand amicably, smiling softly, and breaking Anakin’s heart with his polite wishes for safe journey and good health.

Because he was going there was nothing else to say, they are meeting for the last time and then would be strangers again. The time they’d spent together was already a memory set inside a glass now. It would stay there forever. And they would go their separate paths. That is what people did, didn’t they? Make memories and keep going?

But this hadn’t been just making a memory for Anakin. This had been a dream. A dream he had never dared to dream but, somehow, had lived it, and now it was giving him a rude wake up call. This is what life is like, Anakin, wake up.

He stood up, taking a brazing breath, and moved over to the telephone to make arrangements. Watto was right, his morning was going to be so busy he won’t have time for anything. His heartache can wait till he’d boarded and was alone in the train which will take him away from Obi-Wan. Their train would leave at 12:30 pm, enough time for him to make peace with his situation.

He showered and dressed quickly, and went down to have breakfast with Watto. His heart hammered in his chest, and he felt a little sick, each time the waiter came to their table. He had no intention for his lies to unravel now that they were finally leaving Monte. He looked away whenever he made eye contact with the waiter accidently.

It was 8:45 when they left the dining room to finish packing bags. Anakin glanced around the room one last time, and as he walked out the maître d’hotel gave him a knowing sympathetic look. Obi-Wan had not come down.

As soon as he was alone in his room, he went to his bedside telephone and picked up the receiver to ring the desk.

“Mr. Kenobi, please,” Anakin said immediately, foot tapping the floor fervently.

“No, sir, Mr. Kenobi is not in his room,” came the refined reply, “he said he’ll be back by noon when he went out for an early ride this morning. I don’t know the exact time of his retun, sir.”

“Back by noon...” Anakin whispered to himself numbly, “Thank you.”

He hung up and stood looking down at the telephone. A moment later walked over to his wardrobe and dragged out his suitcase, and began packing. No time to mope. No one last goodbye.

 

******

 

The suite’s floor was filled with luggage, tissue papers over the floor, the drawers left open, and the room was filled with the general bustling air of departure. Couple of porters came in to start removing the luggage. Anakin stood amidst the luggage, slightly apart from Watto, his bag clutched tightly in one hand while the other gripped his straw hat. Misery was written all over his face.

As he’d packed he had tried to make peace with his misfortune. But his mind had kept throwing one image after another at him. What would happen when Obi-Wan learned that Anakin had left Monte without informing him? How would he take it? Would he be disappointed in Anakin’s manners? After all the courtesy he’d extended to Anakin by driving him around, asking after his day, listening to Anakin’s inconsequential talks, this is how Anakin had seen it fit to bid him farewell? Without a single word, or a note?

That thought had driven Anakin to hastily write a card for Obi-Wan thanking him for his time, wishing him well, and asking him to write sometimes and had wrote down his area’s post office address. He’d leave it at the reception desk and ask them to pass it onto Obi-Wan. But would Obi-Wan write back?

Obi-Wan would go back to his Manderley, of course. There would a great pile of letters waiting for him, and Anakin’s card would be tossed amongst them. He’d probably answer weeks later, after all, what’s the hurry for someone he knew only for two weeks? Maybe they could write back and forth but Anakin knew Obi-Wan would grow bored of trying to be polite, and the letters would become sparse, and then no more.

As weeks passed would he think of Anakin, their time together, and smile at the memory? As time passed would he remember Anakin as the poor young man he’d driven around Monte once? Maybe he’d send a printed Christmas card, and out of kindness, ask after his health and his time in New York.

 _This is for the best_ , he’d thought firmly, _for both of us._ The card would be enough to let Obi-Wan know that Anakin had left Monte, and if Obi-Wan wished to reply, the address should suffice. Saying goodbye would only make him more miserable than he already was. And it would not matter to Obi-Wan anyway, not as much as it did to Anakin. And seeing the easy acceptance of their time together coming to an end on Obi-Wan’s face would break him. He did not believe he could face that. This was for the best.

Anakin stayed back till the last luggage was taken before making sure nothing had been left behind. By the time he made it out of the hotel, Watto had finished clearing the bills and was standing at the foot of entrance stairs. Anakin placed his bag among the rest and stood wringing the hat in his hands. Just as the car pulled in front of them for the luggage to be loaded, Anakin turned to Watto.

“I forgot to get luggage labels, I’ll be back in a minute.”

He did not wait for Watto’s reply, which was a tired sigh behind his back. He determinedly strode back into the hotel lobby and towards the desk, slipping a hand into his coat pocket as he approached the desk. The receptionist smiled when he saw Anakin, and just as Anakin opened his mouth to-

“Mr. Kenobi has returned to his room, sir, it was a little after 10 actually. Would you like to make a call?”

Anakin closed his mouth and glanced at the telephone where the receptionist’s hand hovered. His fingers absently caressed the card in his pocket.

“I want a packet of luggage labels,” Anakin said firmly. The man made a silent ‘oh’ before nodding and turning to reach for a packet in the drawers. Anakin glanced at the telephone again, and when he collected the packet he could see in the man’s eyes that he’d not been deceived.

Anakin hurried down the steps, clutching the packet of labels in a death grip, while the card weighed heavily in his pocket.

The porter was being harried by Watto to tie the luggage to the back of the car in a particular way, Anakin nodded absently as he came to stand beside Watto and opened the packet to start writing the labels. This was a routine with Watto, it satisfied him to feel smug that he had instructed and got it done his way, even if any porter could’ve done it far better.

Anakin stood staring at the belt being tightened around the bag and then loosened to rearrange the bag, pen hovering over the label in his hand. At the end, every single travel was the same. For once, just for once-

“I couldn’t find my sketchbook and can’t remember where I left it,” he blurted out, Watto paused in the middle of his same instruction, and Anakin rushed without wasting any time, “I want to give the reception clerk my address, in case they find it.” Ignoring Watto’s irritated ‘Oh, hurry up’, he thrust the label bundle into his hand and turned to take the stairs two at a time.

Once inside, he hurried across the lobby towards the dining room. In case Obi-Wan happened to be in there, he didn’t want to miss in his rush, double backing would take up too much time. As he approached the doors, the maître d’hotel saw him and gave a smile.

“Mr. Kenobi ordered for breakfast in his room, Monsieur.”

Without breaking his pace, Anakin gave a nod and a small smile before turning to take the stairs. He did not care anymore what the entire hotel staff thought of his association with Obi-Wan. He would be gone soon, and they’ll find someone new to gossip about. As he took a deep breath at the second flight of stairs he thought how taking the lift would’ve saved him the time and breath but waiting for it had been out of question.

He arrived breathless at Obi-Wan’s door and gave three short but sharp raps. No answer. He tried again. To Anakin’s relief, this time, somewhere far from inside Obi-Wan’s irritated voice came drifting through the door.

“I’ll be there in a minute.”

“I don’t have a minute,” Anakin said raising his voice, and then added “It’s me, Anakin.”

He looked along the corridor restlessly. There was only silence on the other side of the door. Had he been rude to come here without invitation, and now shouting in front of Obi-Wan’s door? Had he embarrassed Obi-Wan behaving in such a manner? Obi-Wan had never invited him to his room for any social meeting but Anakin had no choice, he wanted to see Obi-Wan one last-

The door half opened to reveal a clearly surprised Obi-Wan looking up at him with a muted curiosity. He was dressed in his trousers and dressing gown, and a towel was still draped across his shoulder. His hair was wet and muzzled from where he’d probably been drying it before Anakin had interrupted. Anakin took it all in without making any effort to explain the reason for his sudden appearance. Obi-Wan waited patiently, a frown forming between his brows, not of irritation but of concern. He looked beautiful

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, voice laced with confusion, and his eyes roving over Anakin, “What’s the matter? Has something happened?” He glanced at the straw hat clutched in Anakin’s hand before looking up, his frown more pronounced and serious now.

“I came to say goodbye....we are leaving,” Anakin said quietly. His voice was steady, to his surprise, but his heart thudded relentlessly in his chest, and it had nothing to do with the stairs.

They stared at each other in silence for a long beat before Obi-Wan blinked to look over Anakin, that frown still firmly in place. Anakin wanted to reach over and smooth it, and then brush the wet strands of hair back from his forehead. Instead he cleared his throat to fill the silence between them. Obi-Wan stepped back still holding the door open.

“Come inside, Anakin,” he said, suddenly sounding tired. Anakin opened and closed his mouth in obvious indecision, he wanted to protest but it was Obi-Wan and that made it all the harder, especially, when Obi-Wan saw his hesitation and sighed before adding “Please.”

Anakin swallowed an entire ‘Can’t you just please say your goodbyes to me right here? I’ve a card here for you, you can write to me if you want’ pleading and looked down. He stepped inside and walked past Obi-Wan to the centre of the room, wringing the hat all the while. He heard Obi-Wan close the door and turned to face him. Obi-Wan walked over to stand before him, his expression solemn.

“Now, tell me what is happening. What are you talking about?” Obi-Wan said patiently.

He crossed his arms, and looked Anakin straight in the eyes. It was ridiculous how Obi-Wan could stand there in his dressing gown and trousers, with a towel around his neck, and still look so well put together. Somehow, he managed to cut a serious figure, even with his damp hair falling onto his forehead.

“I told you already, we’re leaving Monte today. In fact, right now, Watto is downstairs waiting for me with the luggage car loaded. I was afraid I won’t be seeing you again. I felt I-I must see you before I left...” Anakin dropped his eyes to his hands, and took a deep breath before looking back up, “I felt I should say a proper goodbye and thank you...” his voice trailed, he couldn’t do this anymore, he didn’t want to say goodbye, but he had to.

“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” Obi-Wan said softly, tilting his head and looking between Anakin’s eyes.

“It was decided this morning. It can always happen with Watto anytime. It was all done in a hurry. His friend is sailing out to New York and Watto decided we’re going too.  We are joining him in Paris, and going through Cherbourg.”

Obi-Wan simply raised a hand to stroke his beard, as Anakin had seen him do it often when he became thoughtful, and stood gazing at the floor. Anakin wanted to shake him, this is what he’d feared to see, Obi-Wan being not as bothered by the situation as him because it didn’t mean the same to him.

“Why do you have to go with him at all?” Obi-Wan asked, with a slight wave of his hand, as if _this_ was what confused and bothered him the most about the whole situation.

“I...I _have_ to, you know that,” Anakin spluttered, his mind blank, “I work for a salary, Obi-Wan. I can’t afford to leave him.”

“And do you _want_ to go to New York, Anakin?” Obi-Wan asked carefully, his eyes keen and intense. Anakin blinked. What did it _matter_? It was all the same whether Anakin wanted to or not.

“No, I don’t want to go,” Anakin said, defeated, and with a slow shake of head, “I shall hate it, I shall be miserable.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes lost its intense scrutiny almost at once, and a soft look took over his face. There was light amusement in his eyes and he took a deep breath as he stepped away from Anakin to move towards his bed where his clothes were laid out. He took them and turned to Anakin.

“Sit down, I won’t be long,” Obi-Wan said walking toward the bathroom, and talking over his shoulder, “I’ll dress in here, and be ready in five minutes.”

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin said urgently, taking a step forward, Obi-Wan paused at the bathroom door to look back, “Our train leaves at 12:30, and it’s already 10:35.”

“Is it?” Obi-Wan said lightly, raising his eyebrows.

“Watto is waiting for me downstairs right now,” Anakin said, now properly irritated at Obi-Wan’s nonchalance, “We’ll be late, Obi-Wan.”

“Oh, he’ll be late, all right,” Obi-Wan smiled as he stepped through, “and he can wait. Sit.” He closed the door before Anakin could think of a fitting reply.

He turned in a circle, running a hand through his hair in agitation, and stamped his foot once to let out his frustration. A sharp knock on the door startled him out of his stupor and the door opened, it was the waiter bringing in the breakfast. He stood rigidly as the waiter started laying the table methodically.

“Is it the breakfast?” Obi-Wan called out from the bathroom, “I’m famished.”

Anakin and the waiter exchanged an awkward look but neither spoke, unsure to whom it had been addressed. The situation was unreal, and he wondered what was Obi-Wan thinking, what was he going to do?

Anakin turned away, glancing around the room. The room was surprisingly impersonal but tidy. Lots of shoes, and coats, more than ever were needed by any single man, and a string of ties. The dressing table was bare, except for a pair of ivory hair-brushes. No photographs. No snapshots. Anakin instinctively, and against his better judgement, looked for them. There would be at least one photograph at bedside, or on the mantelpiece. Maybe a large leather-framed photograph? There were only lots of books though, and a box of cigarettes.

Just as he’d promised Obi-Wan was ready in five minutes. He walked out, straightening his coat collar, and looking for Anakin as he did. He thanked the waiter, who left them with a bow. He pulled out a chair for himself and turned to Anakin.

“Come have breakfast with me, Anakin” Obi-Wan said looking expectant.

“I’ve had mine already, and I can only stay a few minutes.”

“Alright, you can sit with me while I have my breakfast” Obi-Wan said, placating, and gestured to the chair across him. Anakin had no more protests to make, also he was reluctant to leave Obi-Wan and go down to see Watto anyway. He walked over and took the chair. Obi-Wan shook his head at Anakin before taking his seat.

“So Mr. Watto has had enough of Monte Carlo,” Obi-Wan said conversationally, as he reached for the marmalade and began applying it onto his toast, “and now he wants to go home. Well, so do I.” He shrugged. Anakin waited silently, he had nothing to add.

“He to New York and I to Manderley,” Obi-Wan continued mildly, “My question is which would you prefer? You can take your choice, Anakin.”

Anakin could only stare at him. Choice? What was _his_ choice? What were his choices for him to make a choice from? He wasn’t even sure what he’d heard was right. He continued to stare in silence, maybe Obi-Wan had more to add after he’d finished eating that toast. He simply waited.

“Well?” Obi-Wan said, his toast only half-eaten, “Which is it? Will you go to New York with Mr. Watto, or come to Manderley with me?”

To Manderley? With Obi-Wan?

“Don’t joke,” Anakin said simply, for the first time feeling something akin to annoyance. Obi-Wan can stay casual about it all he wanted, but Anakin wouldn’t tolerate this charade. What was he trying to do? “It’s unfair.”

“Do I look like someone who jokes at a breakfast table, Anakin?” Obi-Wan shot back smoothly, but his eyes were serious, he pursed his lips and put back his half-eaten toast, and leaned back in his chair. “I’ll repeat this just once more, Anakin. Either you can go to New York with Watto, or you can come home with me to Manderley. The choice is open to you.”

Just like that? It can’t be that simple. Anakin’s life had been anything but simple.

“I don’t understand...what-You mean,” Anakin fidgeted. “Do you mean you want a secretary or something?” he offered, leaning forward in his seat, his hands twisting the hat in his lap.

He was trying to make sense of all this, if it was a job offer then Obi-Wan was clearly a better choice. He could work with that, but of course, that way they can’t stay casual friends like they’d been here, Obi-Wan would be his employer then. But he could still see Obi-Wan every day, that was better than never seeing him again, and worse, becoming strangers like he’d feared this morning. Obi-Wan never need to know his feelings for him, he probably never saw Anakin like that-

“No, Anakin, I’m asking you to marry me.”

Anakin looked away and dropped his gaze to the marmalade jar. A fly settled on the lip of that jar, Obi-Wan’s hand came up to brush it away. He wasn’t sure if the buzzing was coming from the fly, or if it was inside his head, did flies make such loud buzzing that you couldn’t hear anything else...

“I see my suggestion doesn’t seem to have gone too well.”

“You don’t- I mean...you can’t...” Anakin could only shake his head. He didn’t know what that meant but he had to.

“Can’t I? Why not?”

“You can’t mean it.”

“I do.”

“Y-You don’t understand,” Anakin struggled, how this was even happening, “You can’t possibly marry me, I mean, I’m not the sort of person people marry.”

Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows and then pulled them into a frown. “What the devil do you even mean by that?” He huffed out, sounding incredulous, and shaking his head in disbelief.

“Well, for one thing, I don’t belong in your sort of world” Anakin suggested, trying to get his bearings. He had to be practical about this, he had to.

“And what is ‘my world’?” Obi-Wan huffed again, his lips curving at those words like there could be even a thing like that.

“Well- Manderley. You know what I mean.” Anakin shot back, feeling scrutinized, and annoyed.

“Surely, I’m the best person to judge that? Whether you would belong there or not?” Obi-Wan said mildly, his face challenging any argument to that matter. He sighed a moment later and his shoulders dropped a little.

“You think I’m asking you this on the spur of the moment, don’t you? Because you said you don’t want to go back to New York” he said quietly, his eyes keen, “You think I ask you to marry me for the same reason you believed I drove you around and lunched with you. To be kind and generous. Don’t you?”

“Yes,” Anakin replied in a heartbeat. Because it was true, it must be. Maybe the drives and lunch weren’t, but this must be. It has to be?

“Oh, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said softly, shaking his head slowly, he smiled but it was sad, “If there is anyone to whom I’m being kind here, it’s myself. You haven’t realised that yet, but one day you will.” He looked down at his hands, that sad smile still on his lips and, in that moment, he looked really young.

“You haven’t answered my question yet. Are you going to marry me?”

Anakin hadn’t, even in his fiercest moments, considered this possibility. That they could marry. But now that it was a possibility, it shocked him. Once, in one of their drives, Anakin had imagined them spending all their days together doing one or another activity together. One of them was sitting together in front of a fireplace, Obi-Wan read a book while Anakin sat on the floor resting his head against Obi-Wan’s knee. It had been intimate and that was the most he’d dared to imagine. He never imagined Obi-Wan ever loving him, and marriage was such a farfetched thing to even consider for him. But here it was, Obi-Wan’s proposal for a marriage, and he meant it.

“I’m not sure what I’d been expecting but if I’ve offended you with this suggestion, Anakin, I’m sorry. Maybe I’d been presumptuous but I’d really believed that you liked me ...or maybe even loved me. I’m sorry, really.”

Anakin should’ve known that he’d been fooling no one, least of all Obi-Wan, with his attempts to hide his feelings. Only yesterday he had expressed his desire to bottle up his memories and promptly said that moment with Obi-Wan was the one he wished to bottle and keep it forever. Even a blind man would’ve seen his meaning, and Obi-Wan was a very observant man.

But he’d only known Anakin for a fortnight. If Watto was right, Obi-Wan had adored his wife, and it has been only a year since her passing. Anakin wasn’t delusional enough to believe it was out of love Obi-Wan was proposing a marriage to him. Maybe Obi-Wan just liked how well they got along, and was reluctant to end their time together. Yet, marriage was an extreme step just to get away from loneliness.

“Y-You are not wrong, Obi-Wan,” Anakin said slowly, still working on what to say and he’d remained silent for too long, “But we’ve known each other for only a fortnight...”

“I’m aware of how this all looks like, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, leaning forward and crossing his arms on the edge of the table, “I won’t pretend that I’ve had this on my mind all along, I don’t take you for a fool. I told you yesterday, I don’t know what to do with you sometimes but I can assure you, I do know what I want and wish to do, and that is to marry you. I want that.” His eyes were earnest and his voice as sincere as it’d always been with Anakin. “All I’m asking you here is, do you also want that? If you don’t, you’re very much free to say so.”

Obi-Wan wished to marry him. Not out of kindness or charity but really wanted that for himself. He’d spoken of wanting to live again only yesterday, it seemed like ages ago now. He wanted to start afresh and he’d chosen Anakin for his new life, leaving behind his past. The thought made Anakin giddy. For whatever reason, Obi-Wan had chosen Anakin as his partner and wanted Anakin to choose him as well.

That was not even a question, Anakin had already chosen Obi-Wan for a while now. Now that he thought about it all of his actions made sense to him. His reluctance to tell Watto, fear of time coming to an end, fear of Obi-Wan not caring for him as he did, and yet he’d taken whatever he’d get out of their time together. He’d never wanted to part with Obi-Wan. Even now, knowing full well Watto was waiting for him downstairs, he couldn’t bear to leave Obi-Wan without a proper closure. His misery and heartbreak this morning made so much more sense, because he’d thought Obi-Wan wouldn’t feel like he did. Somewhere deep inside, he’d wanted Obi-Wan to choose him, and he simply hadn’t put it in words.

Obi-Wan had seen it before he’d even realized, and put it into words for him, making it easier for him. Plain and simple. I’ve chosen you, Anakin, have you chosen me? Yes, he had. Long ago.

_I’ll always choose you, Obi-Wan. I love you dreadfully._

“I want that too, Obi-Wan” Anakin said shakily, his breath coming out in a rush at his realisation, he didn’t dare say it out loud, not yet. He smiled in relief and took in a deep breath, he felt like he’d run a mile.

Obi-Wan’s face broke into a delighted smile at his words. He looked down at his plate before focusing the full intensity of his joy on Anakin again. Eyes crinkling at the corners as they raked over Anakin’s face fervently. He looked happy. And Anakin was floating light weighted at the sight. He’d made _and_ could make Obi-Wan happy.

“Just to say it in words, this means, you’ll marry me, right?”

“Yes,” Anakin huffed out, smiling broadly, “Yes, I’ll marry you, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan looked at him for a long beat before breathing in shakily. “Thank you,” he whispered. Anakin could only smile back, his mind for once was blissfully quiet. Looking at Obi-Wan smiling and being happy didn’t leave room for any second thoughts, he knew it in his heart this was right.

Obi-Wan may not love him yet, it was alright, Anakin would wait. He knew that the day would come when Obi-Wan would love him back, and Anakin will take it all with open arms and show him how much he loved him. Obi-Wan will see it one day. Till then he would love Obi-Wan silently and fiercely.

“So who is going to break the news to Watto, you or me?” Obi-Wan said straightening in his chair, still smiling broadly but it had turned from happy to mischievous now. His eyes twinkled. Anakin sobered at the thought of having to inform Watto. He’d made him wait for...20 minutes? It’d felt like hours to Anakin.

“Oh, you do that,” Anakin said urgently, “He’ll be mad at me.”

“What for...” Obi-Wan murmured absently, more to himself, as he leaned back to reach for the telephone. Placing the receiver between his shoulder and ear, he snatched the half-eaten toast and took a bite. “Hello, Mr. Kenobi here, you’ll find Mr. Watto downstairs waiting outside the hotel, would you ask him with my compliments if he would very kindly come up and see me in my room?...Yes, in my room.” He put back the receiver in its cradle and got back to finishing his toast.

“You asked him to come up here,” Anakin said quietly, reaching for the pot of coffee and pouring out a cup for Obi-Wan, not wanting to sit idle and fidget. “You’ll tell him about us?” He poured two spoons measure of milk just as Obi-Wan liked it and reached for the sugar.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said thoughtfully, already onto his second toast, “Of course, he needs to know why he lost his companion.” He smirked at the last word, Anakin bit the inside of bottom lip. He imagined that if Obi-Wan so fancied he’d probably take Anakin downstairs, and would tell the staff, as he smiled and took Anakin’s arm, “You must congratulate us, Monsieur and I are going to be married.” And then all the other waiters would hear that and smile, and bow with a wave of excitement that only a hotel staff relentlessly mustered for any occasion.

Finishing his coffee and folding the napkin, Obi-Wan stood up from his chair and walked over to Anakin. He took Anakin’s face in his hands and bent down to press a lingering kiss to his forehead. Anakin closed his eyes as he leaned into the touch. Obi-Wan pulled back to look in his eyes, his hands still warm on Anakin’s cheeks, “Don’t worry, it’ll all be fine.” Anakin wasn’t sure if he meant their impending talk with Watto or their future marriage, but he trusted Obi-Wan. It’ll be fine, they’ll do it together.

There was knock on the door and Anakin sprang to his feet, nervous energy rushing back into his body. Obi-Wan stepped back, his fingers trailed on Anakin’s cheek, “You won’t have to say a word.” He turned to walk over to the door, Anakin followed closely and stood pressed to the wall beside the door. Obi-Wan opened the door, which hid Anakin from Watto’s view as the man stepped into the room with a broad pleased smile. Anakin need not have worried, Watto wouldn’t have turned back to look over his shoulder for the world as he had only eyes for Obi-Wan.

“I’m so glad you called me, Mr. Kenobi, I was making such a hasty departure. It was so rude of me to not let you know but a call came this morning from a dear friend of mine, and I had to join him in support, you know, what are friends for?”

“Yes, that is so very like you, and kind, not to mention,” Obi-Wan said. Anakin frowned at him over Watto’s head from his place near the wall. But Obi-Wan didn’t spare him a glance. He continued to smile at Watto in, what Anakin was very sure, a mocking fashion but Watto didn’t know the difference anyway, so he was immensely pleased at Obi-Wan’s words and attentions.

“I asked you up because I’d good news to share with you before your departure, Mr.Watto, I do hope it delights you,” Obi-Wan was definitely having fun playing with Watto’s dense wit. Anakin would’ve laughed had he not been worried about making his presence known at the wrong moment. Watto seemed to be wondering why Mr.Kenobi would be confiding in him but the idea of being let in on some juicy gossip was more delightful so he quickly regained his pleased expression.

“As it happens I’m engaged to be married,” Obi-Wan said, this time with a genuine smile. Watto matched it with his genuine surprise.

“You don’t _mean_ it! But how truly delightful! How romantic! Who is the lucky person?”

Obi-Wan silently raised his arm to guide his attention to where Anakin stood petrified. Watto followed the direction of Obi-Wan’s outstretched arm and turned in his spot. He stood perfectly still for a long beat as Anakin held his wide eyed gaze steadily. He went through a series of different emotions beginning with bafflement and flowing towards furious before he settled his face into a disguise of mild surprise and delight. Obi-Wan continued to speak into the strained silence as if he was remarking upon the weather as the other two stood eyes locked in silent battle.

“I apologize for depriving you of your companion in this abrupt way, I do hope it won’t inconvenience you too greatly.” Obi-Wan shouldn’t have been looking that smug for such a well worded apology but he seemed to be taking great pleasure just looking at Watto’s profile and smirking at Anakin over his shoulder.

“When did all this happen?” Watto spoke at length, trying for mild curiosity while his eyes spoke differently.

“Just a few minutes ago,” Anakin replied, his voice was calm to his surprise and he was proud of it.

Watto raised his eyebrows in a mocking ‘ _indeed_ ’ before he glanced to the side and realised Obi-Wan was still at his shoulder and quickly rearranged his face again to a happy one with a grin.

“What am I thinking of! I should give you both my congratulations and my blessings. I’m very happy for you both! Where is the wedding to be?” he asked as he stepped closer to Obi-Wan.

“Here, as soon as possible,” Obi-Wan supplied quietly.

“Oh, whirlwind romance! Splendid. I could easily postpone my sailings for a week,” Watto said giving a sly grin. Anakin began to fear Watto would be thrilled to see himself playing a leading role in one of the most widely publicized weddings in society history. He fidgeted with his hat and glanced anxiously at Obi-Wan, who simply continued to smile and look Watto in the eye. “This poor child is alone in this part of the world, there is no one else but me to take responsibility for all the arrangements. Wedding, reception and everything, and I’ll give him away!”

Anakin bit a shocked squeal. Obi-Wan looked like he was in love with Watto.

“But my luggage is in the car. Ani?” Watto turned abruptly to Anakin, who took a small step forward by force of habit to take orders, “Go down and tell the porter to take everything out of the car-”

“Oh, just a minute,” Obi-Wan cut in, reaching around Watto to take Anakin’s elbow and draw him close. He proceeded to place an arm around Anakin’s waist in a clear show of Anakin wasn’t Watto’s to order about anymore but made it seem like a casual propriety gesture . “We’re most grateful, Mr.Watto, but I think we both prefer to have it all as quiet as possible. And I couldn’t possibly allow you to change your sailing plans for our sake.”

Anakin resisted the urge to cover his face with the hat as Watto continued to watch Obi-Wan’s hand around his waist. He glanced at Obi-Wan who was watching Watto’s face with mild amusement. Watto shook himself out of his stupor and smiled up at Obi-Wan. He wasn’t a fool to risk arguing with a man of Obi-Wan’s stature and earn a bad reputation, after all, he still could gain by bragging around in social circles that Kenobi’s new husband used to be his paid companion and he’d witnessed their romance bloom right in front of him.  Losing Obi-Wan’s favour in society was not an option when this is the closest he’d ever get to, and boast a connection with the man.

“Anakin,” Obi-wan said, turning to look up and give a reassuring look, “I’ll go down and get someone to bring up your luggage for you, don’t worry.” He gave a brief squeeze and looked Anakin in the eye to make sure he was no longer afraid to face Watto before stepping away. “I’ll let you both say your goodbyes in peace.”

Anakin barely managed to not cling back to Obi-Wan and watched him close the door behind him. He and Watto were left staring at each other in the following oppressing silence that filled the room.

Watto walked past him in a leisurely fashion, taking in the room around him, and Anakin pivoted slowly in his spot to watch the man. He found he’d nothing more to say, not for the lack of words but interest. He wanted to be done with this as quickly as possible.

“I suppose I’ve got to hand it to you, you work real fast. Still waters certainly run deep,” Watto said quietly, his back still turned to Anakin, looking over at the breakfast table at the side of the room. “How did you manage it?” He looked over his shoulder and a shot a sly smile as if it was a conspiracy, and it greatly interested him, “I realise now how you spent your days, and why you were so forgetful, you aren’t the forgetful type, I should’ve known. Tennis lessons, my foot.” He huffed at the words in derision.

“Lucky for you I’d the influenza,” he turned fully to face Anakin, hands deep in pockets. He looked at Anakin curiously, running his eyes over his still figure, head to toe. Appraising him, Anakin realised with discomfort, there was something inquisitive and unpleasant about his eyes, he’d never looked at Anakin that way before. “Tell me,” he said, voice now intimate as if a friend to a friend, “have you been doing anything that you shouldn’t?”

Anakin was suddenly reminded of that incident with Sleemo when he’d had been offered a suit as a bribe. That nasty feeling emanating from him that’d made Anakin push past him, only Watto was a good foot away and still had that effect.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Anakin said firmly, it was true, he had no idea what Watto was trying to say.

Watto threw back his head and laughed, a fake one, and shrugged. “Oh well...never mind. It’s nothing to do with me anymore, I wash my hands of the whole affair.” He shrugged again. “He does seem very keen to marry you in a few days, I wonder what his friends will think, but I suppose that’s up to him,” he said trying to sound casual about it all but his eyes still had that look in them.

He turned again walking directionlessly about the room but paused at the dressing table to stare at the pair of hairbrushes. He then looked at Anakin in the mirror’s reflection and raised an eyebrow. Anakin did not know what to make of Watto’s strange manners. He did not want to either. Obi-Wan was welcome to interrupt them anytime but it would be a while.

“You do realise you’ll have your work cut out as the master of Manderley?” Watto said still looking at him in the reflection, “I don’t suppose he’s too easy, and you’ll have to adapt yourself to his ways. You’ve led an extremely sheltered life up to now, Ani, and I simply can’t see you doing it.” Anakin tried not blink but it was becoming harder. Watto’s eyes were boring into his eyes.

“You haven’t the experience,” he continued, “you just don’t know the ins and outs of it. What are you going to say to all his friends? You barely string two words at my parties.” He huffed a silent laugh as if the thought amused him. “Manderley parties were the famous when she was alive. I suppose he has told you all about them?” Anakin hesitated but Watto didn’t wait for a reply. “But I told you. Oh! Is that the reason for your sudden interest in her last night?” He turned around as it hit him.

“Oh, Anakin,” Watto said slowly shaking his head. It was disconcerting how Obi-Wan had done the same but it’d had a sadness to it, and Watto’s was pitying.  Same words, same gesture, but different people with different intentions. “I, naturally, want you to be happy, and I grant you he’s a _very_ attractive creature but-” he pulled down the corners of his mouth “well, I’m sorry. I think you are making a big mistake- one you will bitterly regret.”

Anakin could only bite his lips and worry them. He was unprepared for such kind of talk. He didn’t know what to say. And it made him more unhappy and angry. He didn’t want his worries voiced aloud and confirmed to him. Not that this was a mistake, he knew this was right, but that he would never be a match to _her_.

“I do hope dearly that you haven’t deluded yourself into thinking that he is in love with you,” Watto shrugged and started walking towards Anakin, to the door. He came to a stop before him. “Of course, you know why he is marrying you, don’t you? The fact is, that empty house got on his nerves to such an extent he nearly went off his head. He admitted as much before you came into the room that afternoon. He just can’t go on living there alone...”

Anakin had had enough. He set his mouth in a thin line and looked Watto straight in the eyes. His hands trembled as he clasped the hat tightly with both hands.

“I think you should leave now, Mr.Watto, you’ll miss your train,” Anakin said quietly.

Watto stepped around him and walked to the door. He held the door open and turned to look at Anakin again. His eyes looked over Anakin again from head to toe. An unpleasant smile twisted across his face and his eyes held an ugly laugh.

“Master of Manderley...” he said in withering sarcasm and huffed out with a shrug.

Then the door slammed close after him and he was gone.

 

******

 

After what felt like ages to Anakin, the door opened again and Obi-Wan stepped inside the room. Anakin shot up from the edge of bed where he’d been sitting and Obi-Wan walked over to him, smiling brilliantly, and reached out to grip his arms.

“I had a room reserved for you and had the luggage sent up there directly,” he reached inside the coat pocket to pull out the keys. He jiggled them once before tossing them onto the bed and taking Anakin’s hands in his. “I guessed it was on me that you were to stay back, and I supposed you wouldn’t want stay in my room.”

“Y-You shouldn’t-”

“Ah, ah, no. You are staying in this hotel till we get married.” His voice brooked no argument. He laced his fingers through Anakin’s and brought them to his lips. He kissed the back of Anakin’s hand once and then pressed it to his cheek.

“Tell me, do you mind how soon you marry me?” Obi-Wan inquired looking up, head tilted to the side as he lightly swung their joined hands. “Because it can be easily arranged in a matter of few days. Over a desk, with a licence, and then off to anywhere you fancy.”

Anakin didn’t mind really. He thought of informing his mother, she wouldn’t be able to come all the way to France, but he would write to her, he was sure she would be happy for him. Watto was right he’d no one else he could invite. But he wondered about Obi-Wan, he surely must’ve friends and relations he’d like to invite and host?

“What about your relations, and all your friends?” Anakin asked, searching Obi-Wan’s face. Obi-Wan shrugged nonchalantly.

“You forget,” he said “I’ve had that sort of wedding already.”

Anakin watched as Obi-Wan brought their hands back up to brush his lips lightly over Anakin’s knuckles. It was understandable that Obi-Wan wanted to avoid the whole affair of grand wedding. He didn’t seem the type who enjoyed that sort of celebrations. This would be more intimate just between the two. Although he’d to admit he’d not taken Obi-Wan’s earlier explanation to Watto seriously, but he saw the charm of it now. They would be equals, he had no one on his side and Obi-Wan too.

“Whatever you like, Obi-Wan,” Anakin said squeezing their fingers together. Obi-Wan scanned his face with a light furrow of his brows.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said slowly, then licked his lips and glanced away before looking back, “I know this all feels rushed to you, and I don’t mean to...rush you, that is. I just feel it would be more appropriate if we returned to Manderley as man and husband, you know.” He searched Anakin’s face, a slight worry lacing his voice.

“Of course, Obi-Wan” Anakin made to assure, “I get it, I don’t believe you mean to push me, or anything. And you are right, it’s more appropriate.”

Obi-Wan let go of his hands, only to wrap his arms around Anakin’s waist and pull him close. “There is no rush for us to be husbands...like that, I mean, but we _need_ to be married so... but later you can take all the time you need, Anakin. There is no hurry. We can get married in few days but we’ll spend time taking this slowly, alright?” Obi-Wan said, his eyes keen and boring into Anakin’s, as if to make sure Anakin had listened and understood. Anakin nodded. “You can have anything you want, Anakin, you just need to say it, and I’ll give it you, anything at all.”

_You are all that I want._

“Yes, Obi-Wan”

Obi-Wan took Anakin’s hand and pressed a kiss to the open palm, and cupped it against his cheek. Anakin leaned down to press their foreheads together gently. They stood like that for a long time. Watto was wrong. This was not a mistake, he’d known as much in his heart when he’d said yes to marry Obi-Wan, but now it was clearer than ever. Loving someone with all of one’s heart and wanting them to be happy was never a mistake.

 

*****

 

Anakin opened his eyes to stare up at the dark ceiling. The room was dark, and everything deathly quiet. What time was it? He glanced at the bedside table clock, it read 2:45am. He sat up, pushing the covers off his legs, and swung his feet to place firmly on the floor. What had woke him, he couldn’t remember, it felt like he’d been dreaming and something in the dream had reminded him of something, and he’d simply opened his eyes.

He stood up, opened the windows, and walked around the silent room for a while, skimming his eyes over the objects in the room. Something. He turned and crossed the room in quick strides to his wardrobe, and pulled out his coat. It had been there since he’d shoved it inside the coat pocket in a hurry on that morning of departure. Hadn’t given it a thought till now. Obi-Wan hadn’t asked for it, he’d probably forgotten he’d ever lent it to Anakin, then how much could it possibly even mean to him.

He carried it to the writing table and opened the drawer to pull out a scissor. He traced his fingertips lightly over the hardcover of the little book of poems. Then flipped it open to reveal the title page.

 ‘ _To Ben from Satine._ ’

He stared at the words in the silence. Those curious, sloping letters. That blob of ink. How alive was that writing. But she was dead. He brought the scissors near to the spine and began to slowly cut the page, the sound of snipping and paper being torn out of book filled the silent room. He left no jagged edges, and the book looked white and untouched when he finally snipped the last bit of that page attached to it. He held up the page and gazed at it for a moment.

Walking over to the fireplace he crouched down before it. He began to tear the page, from side to side, until it was many little fragments in his hands. Even now the ink stood up from the fragments, thick and black, the writing wasn’t destroyed. He dropped the bits into the crate and looked to the side for a box of matches. He grabbed it and lit a match. The flame glowed bright in the dark of the room as he brought it down to set fire to the fragments. He watched as the flames stained the paper, curling their edges, and the slant writing turned to grey ashes. The letter S was the last to go, as if it was putting up a last defiant fight before it curled outwards and crumpled to join the rest of the ashes.

_He just can’t go on living there alone..._

Anakin stayed watching the flames for a while, then stood up and walked to the basin. He washed his hands clean and dried them. Walking over to window he stood gazing out with his arms crossed over his chest.

Obi-Wan may not be in love with him right now. Anakin may not be experienced in the ways of Obi-Wan’s world. He knew it. And he also knew they both needed time.

Obi-Wan had not said anything about being in love, it was too soon to expect such a thing. Everything had happened so suddenly, and Obi-Wan had decided he needed Anakin in his life. That was a start. They were starting afresh, and Anakin had just burnt the page into ashes. It was in the past.

Anakin was going to marry the man he loved dearly. There was no need to feel that pit in his stomach when he’d been offered everything he’d never dreamed of ever having. Obi-Wan had made the proposal. Not like in the romance books, where young men spoke of things they’d half mean or understood. This had been much better. More genuine. They were to be married because they both wanted to be married to each other. Short and simple.

Everything else could be learned with time. Obi-Wan would learn to move on from his past, and to love again. Anakin would learn to overcome his youthful shyness and anxiety, take up responsibilities and handle them with grace. Together they would make new memories that will erase the past, and have experiences that will write their future.

 

*****

 

Descending the flight of steps with his hand firmly in Obi-Wan’s, Anakin thought he’d never imagined what it would be like to walk through a dream while knowing full well it was all real. The busy market street before them, flower sellers with baskets full of endless colours of flowers, the morning sun shimmering off the cobbled streets, the blue sea glittering in the far distance ahead of them, the ancient stone building behind them that they’d just exited. All of it was real and so full of colours.

Anakin turned to gaze at the man who’d brought so much colour into his life in such less time. Obi-Wan smiled up at him, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he squinted against the sunlight, and Anakin fell in love all over again. With the world around him, his life, and mostly with Obi-Wan.

They quickly waded through the passing crowd of people to reach their waiting car. Anakin made to reach for the door, but Obi-Wan stilled his hand and turned to face him. Cupping his face with warm hands, Obi-Wan pulled him down to kiss his forehead, and then both his cheeks. Anakin grew warm in face with each kiss, he couldn’t stop smiling. Obi-Wan pulled back slightly to look him in the eye.

“Wait here.”

Anakin leaned against the car and watched as Obi-Wan turned to the rows of flower sellers and briskly walked over to one of them. He pulled out a handful of notes, saying something to the seller, but didn’t seem to wait for her reply as he simply handed the whole bunch of notes. Then grabbed a big bouquet off her stands and walked back to Anakin.

He came to a stop in front of Anakin who couldn’t help staring in wonder at the bouquet of cream white and soft peach roses. He pressed the bouquet into Anakin’s hands and stood on his toes to press a kiss to the corner of Anakin’s mouth. Anakin smiled back radiantly at him.

They got into the car. Obi-Wan taking the driver’s seat while Anakin brought the bouquet close to his chest and held it there with both hands wrapped around it. He bent down to smell the delicate fragrance the combination of roses gave off.

“They are perfectly lovely, Obi-Wan,” he said smoothing his cheek lightly over the soft petal tips.

Obi-Wan looked down at the roses and then at Anakin, his eyes soft, and reached over to brush his knuckles over Anakin’s cheek. Anakin couldn’t help the blush rising in his cheeks as he bent down again to press his nose into the roses.

Obi-Wan was the dream he’d never dreamed before meeting him, and now he was all that made every moment like living a dream. Anakin could only bite his lip to keep himself from believing that he wasn’t really inside a dream when Obi-Wan reached inside the dashboard compartment to pull out a world map and placed it in Anakin’s lap, then grinned up at him, and asked-

“Where would you like to go next, Mr. Kenobi?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Stop : Manderley !!!
> 
> I'm sorry for the delay in updating.
> 
> Please let me know if you liked this chapter. I hope you are still interested in this story :) I'll not abandon it, don't worry.
> 
> My Obikin tumblr: [princeobiwan](https://princeobiwan.tumblr.com)


	5. Chapter 5

They came to Manderley in early May. Arriving with the first swallows and bluebells, as Obi-Wan had said, it would be the best moment before the full flush of summer. He had assured that the sweet scented azaleas in the valley, and the red rhododendrons in bloom were something to look forward to. They were going to arrive in the late afternoon, just in time for tea.

Anakin sat fidgeting in the open roof car, bouncing his leg, and smoothing his palms over knees in intervals as they motored through the endless winding roads of the countryside. To him this long drive could’ve been no different from their other long drives, lovely and relaxing, if not for the knowledge that this drive was not going to end with them arriving at a hotel but at the grand Manderley. And he was dreading it as much as he had longed for it.

“Feeling all right?” Obi-Wan asked, looking away from the road, with a slight frown. Anakin smiled nodding, taking a deep breath, in response. “I can’t figure out if you’re excited or nervous,” Obi-Wan mused, with a small smile as he turned to look at the road again. Anakin could only huff out to cover his edgy feeling.

Driving to Manderley must be so easy for Obi-Wan, going back to his home.  He would walk through a hall, check his mails, and perhaps ring the bell for coffee. But for Anakin? He did not know where to begin when he thought of how he was going to fit in all of this. Living in Manderley was not a theory, or a dream, anymore. The moment was upon him, and he wanted it delayed.

Coming to a new place for the first time, adjusting to new surroundings, and learning what he had to do next was not new to him, he had done it countless times, as Watto’s companion. But then, he’d always known his position and what was expected of him. Now, all he could feel was fear of failing. Failing to learn, failing to do his duties, failing to behave as was expected of his position as Obi-Wan Kenobi’s husband.

Failing Obi-wan.

He suddenly feared he did not even know the most basic knowledge of behaviour in polite society, and certainly not the knowledge to present himself as the fitting husband to the master of Manderley. He straightened his coat lapels and tugged at the sleeves, glancing at the trees rushing by.

“Only two miles further,” Obi-wan said, sounding cautious as if trying to soothe Anakin’s obvious nerves and, at the same time, not to alarm him. “We should’ve stayed in London for few more weeks, I’ve bustled you here rather quickly, haven’t I? Maybe we should’ve stayed till the clothes you ordered for to be ready, I suppose.”

“It doesn’t matter to me, Obi-Wan,” he assured, trying not to show that his ill-fitting clothes bothered him, but added “as long as you don’t mind.”

“Absolutely not, dearest,” Obi-Wan smiled warmly, “But I know that you would’ve liked to have them, all the same.” Anakin could only shake his head at the teasing and look down smiling.

Obi-Wan had sat patiently as Anakin went through samples of men’s clothing materials. The prices had appalled Anakin and he had protested at the idea of Obi-Wan paying for it, but Obi-Wan had insisted that he accept them as wedding gift since Obi-Wan hadn’t gotten him anything. Reluctantly, he had obliged. But looking through the fine fabrics had quickly drawn him out from his stupor, and he had ended up ordering a dozen suits and trousers of dark shades, encouraged by a pleased tailor and a fond Obi-Wan. Then feeling guilty about his extravagant purchase and not wanting to come off eccentric, he had asked Obi-Wan to choose the shirts for him. Obi-Wan ordered over a two dozen. Anakin had dragged him out, with cheeks flaming to Obi-Wan’s amusement. 

“Do you see that belt of trees on the brow of the hill there?” Obi-Wan asked, pointing over to a distance, and continued, “Sloping to the valley, with a scrap of sea visible just beyond?” Anakin nodded looking at the dense great trees in the valley. “Well, that’s Manderley, in there. Those are the woods I told you about.”

Anakin smiled at the memory. It felt it was a lifetime ago. Or another life. When Obi-Wan had spoken of Manderley for the first time, and he had listened with rapt attention because he hadn’t believed he would ever get a chance like that again. To hear about the place Obi-wan had come from, was fond of, and to get a small glimpse of the life Obi-Wan lived. Because another talk with him had been an uncertain future and seeing Manderley had seemed such a distant dream to him then.

 “Here we are,” Obi-Wan murmured, with a note of excitement in his voice, as they turned a corner to come to a crossroad, and the car slowed as the road curved. Anakin gripped the leather seat of the car with both hands.

Before them were two high iron gates, opened wide to the long drive beyond. Beside the gate, worked into the high brick wall was the word “MANDERLEY”. Just inside the iron gates was a lodge where the lodge-keeper and his wife stood waiting. Anakin could just make out the children’s faces peering at them through the lodge window, curiously.

As they drove through the gates, Anakin noticed that the couple had dressed for occasion, ceremonially. The lodge-keeper doffed his cap in greeting and his wife gave a bow. Obi-Wan acknowledged their greetings with an accustomed grace. Anakin managed a half-smile as the car passed the lodge and the couple smiled back genially.

He turned to look just as a little girl came running out of the lodge to stare at them, with her hands shielding her eyes from the sunlight. He resisted the urge to shrink back in the seat, knowing he should get used to the curious stares from here on. He knew why it would be a norm for the near future.

Perhaps having guessed Anakin’s shyness, Obi-Wan reached over to ease Anakin’s grasp on the seat, taking the hand in his and lifted it to his lips, kissing it lightly. He smiled warmly, and gave a reassuring squeeze to the hand.

“There will be certain amount of curiosity, of course,” Obi-Wan said, “You mustn’t mind it, they have probably talked of nothing else for weeks since hearing the news. You’ve just got be yourself and they will all adore you.”

Anakin doubted that. He wasn’t Obi-Wan where matters of gifted charms and grace were concerned. He wasn’t someone who could walk into a room and people were enraptured by the mere presence. He’d never wanted that kind of attention, or wished he had the charm, but now wished he at least had some of it to make people here like him, and not judge him for his happy happenstance.

“And don’t you worry about running the house, I assure you it’s nothing like you might’ve heard from people. You don’t have to worry about Manderley. Maul does everything. Just leave it all to him.” Obi-Wan said giving another light squeeze to his hand.

In that moment, Anakin envied Obi-Wan, careless and at ease, that little smile on his lips at the prospect of coming home. He hoped, in future, there will come a day when even he would smile and be at ease coming home to Manderley. Distantly he heard the gates shut with a crash behind them.

“See those shrubs to your left? It will be a blue wall along here when the hydrangeas are in full bloom. You’ll never be short of flowers to come across in this place.”

Before them the drive was nothing like Anakin had imagined. It wasn’t broad or spacious, or flanked by turf on either side. This drive twisted and turned, wider in places but narrow enough for a driving path, and a great colonnade of tress rose above their head. The branches intermingled with each other to form an archway above them, like a roof of a church. They were so thickly entwined that midday sun barely penetrated the interlacing leaves, and only patches of warm light flickered in intervals that glowed like gold on the drive.

As the drive began to descend to the valley, the great trees came upon them, great beeches with lovely white stems lifting their branches to one another and other trees. They came so close that Anakin was sure if he leaned out with his arm outstretched he would be able to touch them with his hands. The car went on a little bridge over a narrow stream, and continued on the twisting and turning drive through the dark and silent woods, Anakin beginning to believe they were probably driving deep into the heart of the forest itself, and wondering if there really was any clearing spacious enough to hold a grand house like Manderley.

At each turn, he thought this must be it where the ranks broke and a clearing must materialise, and was disappointed each time. The lodge gates were already a memory to him this deep in the woods. Then he saw a clearing ahead, a patch of sky, and in a blink of an eye on either side of them was a wall of blood-red rhododendrons, reaching far above their heads. The suddenness of their appearance left Anakin staring up at the ceiling of crimson flowers, massed in incredible profusion, so much that he could hardly see any leaf or a twig among them. They were luscious and fantastic. Anakin beamed turning to Obi-Wan.

“Like them?” murmured Obi-Wan, who clearly had been watching for Anakin’s reaction, smiling at his wonderment.

“Yes,” Anakin replied breathlessly. They were unlike anything he’d seen before.

With the red wall of rhododendrons still flanked on either side, the drive finally broadened to a sweep and they turned the last corner. And there was Manderley! It was everything Anakin had expected it to be from Obi-Wan’s words. A picture of exquisite beauty and grace, faultless, and lovelier than he had ever dreamed. It was built in a hollow of smooth grassland and mossy lawns, the terraces sloped to the gardens, and the gardens continued to the sea.

“That’s it. That’s our Manderley,” Obi-Wan said shooting a grin at Anakin.

As they drove up the driveway to the wide stone steps, Anakin’s forgotten nerves returned in vengeance. There was a large group of people assembled, all standing in attention along either side of the steps leading up to the entrance.

“Damn that man,” Obi-Wan muttered beside him as he pulled the car to a stop with a jerk, “he knew perfectly well- I told him I don’t want this sort of thing.” Anakin pursed his lips, unsure.

“I’m sorry, you’ll just have to face it,” Obi-Wan continued, irritation laced clearly in his voice, “Maul has assembled the whole staff to welcome us. It’s all right, you don’t have to say anything, I’ll do it.” He smiled thinly.

Anakin remained seated for a moment watching Obi-Wan wrench open his side of door, before fumbling with his straw hat and reaching to open the door. Just then a well-dressed man with a kind smile opened it for him, and stood aside waiting for him to step out. Anakin managed a weak ‘Thank you’ stepping out and turned to smile back properly, unsure if he should offer a handshake.

“Welcome to Manderley, sir” the man said in greeting. Anakin nodded, feeling relieved at the friendly voice, that matched the man’s face.

“Well, here we are, Cody,” Obi-Wan said, walking around the car. His voice in good spirits at the sight of the man, as opposed to just a few seconds ago, “Everyone well?”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir,” the man, Cody, replied with a slight nod, “I’m glad to see you home, sir. I hope you’ve been keeping well, sir. And sir, too.” The last clearly addressed to Anakin.

“Yes, we both are very well, thank you, Cody.” Obi-Wan smiled, and placing a hand on Anakin’s elbow, “Anakin, this is Mr. Cody Fett, our butler here in Manderley, and a very good friend of years,” he said warmly, and with slight pride in his voice continued, “Cody, this is Mr. Anakin Kenobi.”

Anakin and Cody exchanged greetings. Cody had an easy air to his manners, like it came naturally to him, or he had practice of it for years. His eyes and smile both had warmth to them that Anakin suspected came from a genuine feeling of well wishing and regard. This time Anakin offered his hand with a quiet ‘How do you do?’ Cody hesitated seeing the outstretched hand and just when Anakin began to withdraw the hand, he took it and gave a brief but firm shake. Obi-Wan smiled tenderly at the whole exchange before jerking his head towards the assembly of people with a tight smile.

“I didn’t expect the whole staff to be in attendance, Cody?”

“Mr. Maul’s orders, sir,” Cody replied, his face expressionless.

“Ah, I guessed as much,” Obi-Wan muttered gravely, then shooting an apologetic smile at Anakin, “It won’t take long, come on.”

Placing a gentle hand on Anakin’s back, he led them towards the waiting group. They walked up the flight of steps together, Cody and a footman following with the cases, and Anakin keenly aware of the curious eyes following their procession. Just when they reached the threshold of the house, Obi-Wan paused to turn and look down at the staff.

 Taking Anakin’s arm, he delivered a speech thanking the staff. He was perfectly easy and flowing, no sign of his earlier irritation at the prospect, and he made it seem like it was no effort to him at all. There was a quiet applause at the end of speech, Anakin only turning to look at the staff at the sound.

A man detached from the perfect line of people and advanced towards them. At first glance, he was not particularly noteworthy. But as he drew near, Anakin observed, he was tall and gaunt, dressed in deep black, with prominent cheekbones and great, hollow eyes, set in a slightly reddish skull-like face. He had an air of effortless confidence bordering on arrogance, if Anakin were to really name it as such.

Anakin held out a hand in greeting, envying the man’s dignity and composure, and the man took it with a smile that did not reach his eyes. His hand was heavy and cold, and it lay in Anakin’s like a lifeless thing.

“Welcome to Manderely, sir,” the man said, voice just as cold and lifeless as the hand in Anakin’s. He continued to speak, a rehearsed speech for the occasion, welcoming Anakin in his and staff’s name, his eyes never leaving Anakin’s, not for a moment.

When he’d finished, he waited as if for a reply, and Anakin could only stammer a thanks, looking away from the unsettling gaze. The man proceeded to address Obi-Wan, easily speaking of the uneventful developments at the house and asking after his health. Occasionally glancing at Anakin, as if including him in the talk but his hollow eyes spoke for him clearly, scornful. Anakin couldn’t help but feel like he’d failed some test.

“Anakin, this is Mr. Maul,” Obi-Wan said giving Anakin’s arm a light squeeze, and smiling warmly, “he is the housekeeper, as I said earlier he looks over everything in the house, you don’t have to worry yourself. Maul, this is Mr. Anakin Kenobi.” Anakin nodded but kept still. Maul gave a slight bow of his head, his lips twitching.

“Ah, it almost escaped me, sir, my apologies,” Maul said reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out an envelope. He continued speaking to Obi-Wan but kept his eyes fixed on Anakin. “This arrived only a few days ago, addressed under your care, sir, and I wasn’t quite sure if this was to be put among other mails.” He held out the envelope. Anakin cut his gaze to Obi-Wan once before looking down at the writing on the cover. It was from mother. He fumbled with his gloves hastily, dropping them in the confusion to reach for the letter.

Maul, keeping up with his duty, bent to pick them up and when he handed them over, Anakin noticed the scorn from his eyes earlier had now slipped onto his lips. He guessed that man considered him ill-bred. Then he’d handed over the letter and stepped back without a word to take his place amongst the rest. Next thing Anakin knew, Obi-Wan was clutching his arm firmly and leading him through the doors into the house.

He briefly registered the great stone hall they were walking into, the wide doors opened to the library on the side, and the exquisite staircase ahead. Obi-Wan steered him towards the library, and as soon as they were inside, closed the doors behind them. They were alone again.

A spaniel came to greet them from the fireside. Obi-Wan patted its head as it pawed at him, its silken ears strained back, and nose butting his hands in affection. Then when satisfied with Obi-Wan’s attention, it turned to Anakin, sniffing, partly curious partly uncertain. Anakin crouched down to scratch behind the ears, and it immediately laid a chin upon his bent knee and put its nose in his hand. Its eyes were deep with meaning, and thumped its tail when Anakin stroked the silken ears.

“Ah, I knew he would like you right away,” Obi-Wan said, arms crossed over chest and watching the little scene with a tender smile. Anakin beamed. “He is called Artoo, please don’t ask why I haven’t a clue, and I never wondered about it.”

“How can you not know?” Anakin snorted, incredulous, as he continued to pet Artoo’s ears.

“He was brought in once when I was away on business, and when I came back he was already everyone’s favourite Artoo,” Obi-Wan frowned, “He took his time allowing me into the family, of course, and I stayed away from investigating his sordid history.” Anakin shook his head and gave Artoo a firm rub on his head, which clearly pleased the spaniel.

“Oh, don’t rot him, give an inch he takes up a mile,” Obi-Wan said in mock warning. Artoo left Anakin side to once again paw at Obi-Wan. “I haven’t got you anything, next time maybe, my friend.”  Artoo left them to return to fireside. Obi-Wan rolled his eyes at the retreating figure, face fond, then turned to Anakin.

“How are you feeling?” Obi-Wan asked eyes searching Anakin’s face.

“I’m fine, Obi-Wan...just a bit tired from the drive, that’s all,” Anakin said, smiling easily now that they were alone away from the curious stares, and his nerves and voice having returned to steady. Obi-Wan reached to run his hands lightly up and down his arms in a soothing gesture.

“They’ll go back to their work, now that their curiosity is sated,” he huffed just as Anakin chuckled at Obi-Wan’s clear disapproval of his staff’s gossip nature. “Come on,” he turned to walk further into the room.

Anakin walked a few paces taking in the surroundings. It was a deep, old but comfortable room with books lining the walls to the ceiling. The long windows looked out upon the lawns, and beyond the lawn he could make out the distant shimmer of the sea. A basket was set near the great fireplace for Artoo, which he clearly had never sat on, and the solid chairs beside the fireplace had the tell-tale marks of usage. Anakin smiled at the odd comfort of the sight.

The doors opened and Cody walked in, followed by a footman bringing in the tea. Anakin stood quietly watching their little stately performance while Obi-Wan paid no mind to it and went to a writing table overlooking the lawns. Anakin sat down to play with a dripping crumpet, and watch Obi-Wan go through his pile of letters. Artoo jumped onto the seat beside him from nowhere, and rested his head on Anakin’s leg.

There was a strange comfort about the room, old quiet smell, like the last of fragrances brought in through the windows, a sweet mixture of lilac and rose scent. Anakin supposed whatever air came into this room, whether from the garden or from the sea, would gradually become part of the room itself, one with books, ceiling, the dark panelling, and the heavy curtains. It reminded him of ivy tendrils growing and creeping upon stones and windows, and becoming inseparable from the walls after a certain time. It was room of peace, a room for meditation.

His attention went back to Obi-Wan, who looked up briefly to smile before going back to glancing through whatever was more important. It occurred to Anakin how very little he knew of Obi-Wan’s life here at Manderley. What did his typical day consist of, what orders did he give out for his household, of people in his life, his friends...

Driving by his side through France and Italy, all Anakin had ever thought was how much he loved this man, content in his presence, and living though his eyes and words. He was so much more than Anakin had dreamed him to be, youthful and ardent in his knowledge, jovial and teasing, nothing like the Obi-Wan he’d first met ages ago, wrapped in mystery and sitting alone at his table in the restaurant. His Obi-Wan of the past weeks laughed and sang, he’d a beautiful voice, flicking stones on water, with little to no burden on his shoulders, taking his hand as they wandered streets aimlessly, and no frown had marred his handsome face. And it had never occurred to Anakin that Obi-Wan, in fact, led an orderly, methodical life which he would soon be going back to.

“Crumpets not to your liking?” Obi-Wan’s voice cut through his musings. Anakin looked down at the pitiful crumpet lying ignored in his hands. “You can try the crumbled cake, I suppose.” Anakin shot an apologetic smile and returned the crumpet to the tray and took the tea cup.

“I didn’t know you liked tea back home,” Anakin said conversationally, blowing over the tea, “You always ordered for coffee.” Looking up, he saw Obi-Wan watching him with a contemplative look and gave a tight smile.

“I do like coffee more than tea, actually,” Obi-Wan said mildly, giving the pen in his hand a light twirl, “but here it’s more of a tradition, and I don’t mind it all that much really,” frowning slightly, he looked over the mails on table, “I never gave it much thought, so tea it is here.” Anakin frowned at that.

“So, what has your mother written?” Obi-Wan asked, taking in a deep breath, and indicating at Anakin’s coat pocket. “What does she think of her son running off to marry a man he’d only known for few days?” The tease clear in his voice and smiling lips now.

“Oh, yes,” Anakin said hastily placing the cup back, and retrieved the letter. As he carelessly broke the seal, it surprised him to realise that he was actually nervous about reading the letter. He’d written to his mother couple of days before the marriage, explaining in detail, and had asked her to write back to Manderley. His heart fluttered in his chest as he unfolded and smoothed out the sheet of paper.

_‘Dearest Ani,_

_I hope you are in good health and reading this letter in good spirits._

_Ani, I must admit your letter took me by surprise, and I was not very happy of the situation you’d gotten yourself into. I could not believe a man had captured your heart and earned your trust in such a short time. I was convinced, and even worried, that your association with this man could spell trouble to you. But I took my time to reread and understand your words and, Ani, it appears Mr. Kenobi really has your deepest affections. I do not wish to question your confidence in this matter, Ani, but I pray Mr. Kenobi proves himself worthy of your affections. You are so generous with your heart, I worry sometimes._

_I’m happy for you, Ani, I truly am. I hope this marriage brings the happiness and love you seek from him. And I hope he treats you well. You both have my blessings. Do not fear that you don’t have my approval, my dearest. No matter what you choose for your life, Ani, you will always have my blessings. I pray for both of your strength and good health._

_Keep your eyes forward and do not look back, Ani. Your chosen path lies before you, do not question or hesitate, I’m always there for you. Please give my sincerest regards and wishes to your husband. And tell him I think he is very lucky to have captured my son’s heart._

_With all my love,_

_Shmi._

_PS: I do hope you write more regularly now that you have a fixed address.’_

Anakin reread the letter, his hand idly stoking Artoo’s head. He felt much lighter in the heart at his mother’s words. He’d hoped his mother would understand his serious feelings for Obi-Wan but to read her assurance made relief course through his body. He turned to Obi-Wan, who’d returned to reading at some point.

“She is happy for us and wishes us well, Obi-Wan,” Anakin smiled at Obi-Wan, who looked up and smiled warmly, “And she asked me to tell you that you are very lucky to have her son’s heart.” He finished with an aloof tilt of his head making Obi-Wan huff out a laugh.

“That I knew already,” he replied softly, his eyes tender on Anakin’s face, who blushed under the gaze and cleared throat. “I’m happy your mother approves of our marriage, Anakin, I know it means a lot to you.” Anakin nodded. “You should invite her to Manderley sometime.”

The doors opened again and Cody came in with the footman to clear the tea. He took in the barely touched contents of the tray, and shot a glance at Obi-Wan with pursed lips, the only indication of his disapproval before he gestured the footman to take away the set.

“Mr. Maul wondered, sir, whether you would like to see your room,” he said to Anakin, who was watching the tea cups being cleared guiltily.

Obi-Wan glanced up from his letters at the mention of room. “How have you fared with the east wing?”

“Very nicely, sir, if I say so myself. It was a mess when they were working on it, of course, and Mr. Maul was rather agitated it would not be finished by your return. But they managed to clear out last Monday. I imagine it’ll be very comfortable there, sir, it’s a lot lighter on that side of the house.”

“You had alterations made to the house?” Anakin asked, surprised.

“Oh, nothing much,” Obi-Wan replied evenly, “some redecorating and paint work in the suite in the east wing. I thought it would be perfect for us, and Cody here clearly agrees with the sentiment. It’s cheerful on that side of the house, and one can look upon the rose-garden.”

“Will you be joining?” Anakin asked, hopeful, he wasn’t eager on seeing Maul so soon again. That man was nothing like Cody, it was clear, although both seemed to perform pretty much same duties.

“I’ll be with you in a while, dearest,” Obi-Wan said, apologetic, “You go ahead and get to know Maul, it’s a good opportunity.” Cody huffed at his words, Obi-Wan grinned back. Anakin didn’t share their amusement, he wasn’t sure what was so amusing about Maul at all. That man already had managed to look down on him somehow.

Cody led him out into the hall and nodded towards the staircase. He took a moment to ponder how vast it appeared then turned towards the grand staircase and began to walk. Maul stood waiting, motionless and silent at the bottom of stairs, like a black statue, eyes watching Anakin’s progress. Anakin cringed internally at the how loud his shoe soles rang on the flagged stones. Reaching Maul, Anakin turned to look over his shoulder at Cody, who gave an encouraging smile and nod. When Maul joined to walk just behind him, he hardly made any noise, clearly he used felt soled shoes. He must think Anakin a fool.

They went up the stairs, at the landing Maul motioned towards an archway, and Anakin walked through it, his pace slowing as he passed. It was the famous minstrels’ gallery Watto had talked about. Various paintings lined the wall, no wonder Watto had wanted to take a look at these priceless works and make his estimates, and Anakin wondered if they can be priced like that. They were exquisite, clearly a collection made over decades.

He came to a stop in front of one notable piece, which he suspected could arrest anyone’s attention. It was a painting of a young man and a woman of almost same age, in their twenties. They gazed out from the frame, both their eyes intelligent, like they knew something the observer would never, and their expressions had the regal bearing of a wealthy upbringing. They were both dressed in dark red velvet, almost black, that stood out against the royal blue drapes behind them. The woman had deep green eyes and her short blond hair was styled to form ringlets about her broad forehead. But it was the young man who commanded Anakin’s fascination. Thick, dark wavy red hair framed his handsome face and fell to his shoulders. His lips had a hint of smile to them but his expression serious. He stood with a hand resting on the back of armchair the woman sat on. 

All of Anakin’s dreams of the Noble Gentleman painting seemed like a child’s imaginings in front of what Obi-Wan actually looked like in a painting. Like he was born to be framed in an exquisite painting and exhibited to the public. Anakin felt like he was a visitor in a museum looking upon a priced painting, and not like he had actually married the man in the frame and was currently standing as Master of the house which housed the painting itself.

He became aware of the silence, and realised he’d been standing and staring for a long moment now. He looked to the side to find Maul’s eyes watching him keenly. How long had that man been standing there watching him silently?

“Um, wh-who is the woman in the painting?” Anakin said, trying to shake off the chill filling his spine. Maul barely flicked his eyes to the painting.

“It is Madam Asajj, Mr. Kenobi’s adopted sister,” Maul said, expressionless.

“Okay,” Anakin mumbled, “We can go now, I don’t mean to make you wait.”

“It’s for you to make your own time, sir,” Maul answered, the submissive words hardly matching the look in his face, “I’m here to carry out your orders.”

Anakin stepped away from the painting and gestured for him to walk ahead, he didn’t like having this man dog his steps when he hardly knew where he was going. Maul turned smoothly and walked towards the broad, carpeted corridor beyond. Then led him through an oak door, a flight of stairs, and then another staircase and another door. Just when Anakin was beginning to wonder where he was being led Maul stopped at the end of a hallway and flung open the doors to a room, and stood aside for Anakin to pass.

He walked into an anteroom, furnished with a sofa, chairs, and writing desk, which opened out to a large bedroom with wide windows and a bathroom attached. The room was decorated in warm colours, and the light and rose scent pouring through the window gave the whole place a lively atmosphere.  Anakin went to the window in the bedroom, and just as he’d guessed the rose garden was below the window, and the eastern part of the terrace. Beyond the rose garden and lawns, the woods were visible in the distance.

“I like it here very much,” Anakin said, turning to Maul, his earlier uneasiness with the man forgotten, “This is very homely, of course, and you wouldn’t even know this house is near the sea.”

“No, not from here,” Maul murmured, his voice peculiar, “you can’t even hear it in this wing.” The way he spoke ‘this wing’ made it seem like this place was in some way inferior. Anakin had the urge to end the conversation already.

“I find this a very charming room, and I’m sure we’ll be very comfortable here,” Anakin said, confidently but Maul didn’t appear to be hearing. He simply stood, hands folded before him, and eye never leaving Anakin’s face. “I understand it was redone for our return, and I appreciate the work.”

“It had a _mauve paper_ , and different hangings,” Maul said, walking into the bedroom slowly, eye roving over the walls but not really seeing them, as if bored, “Mr. Kenobi was right to have it redecorated, I must say. But then it was never used much, except for rare visitors, so it never mattered.”

“This was not his bedroom, then?” Anakin asked. He’d simply believed Obi-Wan had his own bedroom redone.

“No, sir,” Maul responded, his voice suddenly keen, “he’s never used the room in this wing before.”

“Oh.”

Clearly, Obi-Wan had wanted to move on from his past and what better way than change the previous living arrangements. Except that Maul made it sound like a heavy loss on their part, and a mistake. Anakin moved to unpack his suitcase, already placed at the foot of the four-poster bed, hoping Maul would take it as a signal to leave him alone.

“I’ll have someone sent up to unpack for you, sir, you need not do it yourself. I can have them attend to you until your personal valet arrives.”

“I don’t have a valet,” Anakin returned, turning to look over his shoulder. Maul once again wore the same scorn he’d when he picked up the gloves. “And I believe I don’t need one.”

“It’s usual for men in your position to have a personal valet.” The sting clear in his words and voice.

“If you think so,” Anakin said, uncomfortable, “maybe you can choose someone for me, if it’s necessary.”

“If you wish,” Maul replied coolly, “It’s for you to say.”

Anakin wished Maul would simply go away. He didn’t believe it was even normal for a servant to speak like the way Maul did. Give an illusion of subservice when everything was a clear demand to have it a certain way. Maybe it was experience and superiority of having been at his job for years. Still.

“Hire any young man wanting training and experience, I suppose” Anakin said, exhaustion catching up in his voice, “I guess you would know what to look for after many years here.”

“Not many years here, sir,” Maul said, his lips curling at the corners, and his voice taking an animated edge, which had previously seemed impossible on him, “The Fetts have served the family for years, and Fett took over from his late father. He practically grew up here, alongside Mr. Kenobi, they are only a few years apart. Mr. Kenobi considers him a friend rather than the butler.”

“I see...you came in recent years?”

“Yes, I came here when Mrs. Kenobi was a bride,” Maul said, for some reason his voice was harsh with meaning, and the color in his cheek-bones rose, making him appear redder than his usual pallor.

This sudden change instilled a sense of disquiet in Anakin. He could see that Maul despised him, beside the scorn and snobbery of his class, there was actual dislike in his eyes, or malice. All of which was unwarranted, Anakin decided, this man barely knew him and had no right to judge him and his class.

“Well, I think...you may leave now, Mr. Maul.”

“Very good,” Maul said but didn’t move. At least not in the direction Anakin had hoped for. He moved towards the bed and ran a hand over the dark wooden vertical column, fingers tracing the ornate designs. “I hope I shall do everything to your satisfaction. The house has been under my charge now for more than a year, and Mr. Kenobi has never complained.”

There was strange pride behind his words and Anakin suspected if he were ever to complain it would not be received nicely. And he supposed that was the effect Maul had been hoping to have with his words. He bit the inside of his cheek and remained silent.

“It was very different, of course, when the late Mrs. Kenobi was alive,” Maul said, at this point speaking largely to himself and the room, his eyes moving over the wooden panels and ceiling, “Lot of entertaining then, lot of parties and guests. Though I managed it for her, she very much liked to supervise everything herself.”

And there it was again. The derision and definite contempt. Thinly veiled words questioning whether Anakin can ever match up to the imaginary standards Maul seemed to measure him against. He was sure Maul was watching for the words’ effect on his face.

“If I ever host parties I’ll leave it you then,” Anakin managed with as much strength as he could muster in the face of such decided prejudice.

“Can I do anything more for you?” Maul asked, pretending to glance around the room for anything missing.

“No,” Anakin replied, firmly. “I have everything I need. I’m sure I’ll be very comfortable.”

Finally, Maul moved to the door but paused, with hand resting on the handle of the open door. As if he had something more to say. Anakin was beginning to get sick of those hollow eyes constantly watching and appraising him, and the man who managed to become a still shadow.

“If you find anything not to your liking you will tell me at once?” Maul asked.

“Yes,” Anakin said, “Yes, of course, although it’s hardly an issue. The room is already charming.”

“Mr. Kenobi was very specific in his instructions for the room, I just followed it,” Maul shrugged. “If Mr. Kenobi asks for his big wardrobe, you must tell him it was impossible to move. We tried, but we could not get it through these narrow doorways. These are smaller rooms than those in the west wing. If he doesn’t like the arrangement of this suite he must tell me. It was...difficult to know how to furnish these...rooms.”

Anakin could not help but observe that for all his pretence of being a submissive servant only now did Maul sound genuine in his words and action. Like it mattered to him how his efforts were appreciated.

“I’m sure Obi-Wan will understand, and will be pleased with everything you’ve done with redecorating the rooms. Although he shouldn’t have bothered, I should have been just fine in the west wing.”

“Mr. Kenobi said you would prefer to be on this side,” Maul said, twisting the handle absently and looking curiously at Anakin, “The bedroom in the big suite is twice as large as this. Beautiful, too. With a scrolled ceiling, tapestry chairs, and a carved mantelpiece. All very valuable. The windows look down across the lawns to the sea. Mr. Kenobi thought it was the most beautiful room in the house, and he admired the view of the sea.”

Why must he speak with such an undercurrent of resentment? Implying this present room was clearly an inferior and not up to Manderley standard. A lower class room for a lower class person, he supposed.

“I guess Obi-Wan keeps the most beautiful room to show to the public,” Anakin said. He’d heard about wealthy aristocratic families doing that with their houses, open their doors for public viewing and such. And with a house like Manderley there was only more to show off.

“Oh no, the bedrooms are never shown to the public,” Maul replied, “only the hall and the gallery, and the room below.” He fixed Anakin with his eyes. “They used to live in the west wing and used those rooms when Mrs. Kenobi was alive. That big room that looked down to the sea was Mrs. Kenobi’s bedroom.”

Anakin’s heart was beating fast, and he wasn’t sure why. Hearing aloud what he had already guessed made his thoughts come to still. He hated the feeling.

A shadow flitted across Maul’s face, and his face fell back to his neutral and dull expression in an instance.

“Anyway, you must tell me if you need anything at all.” A step sounded outside the rooms and Maul drew back against the open door, effacing himself, and his head bowed in a mute obedience.

Obi-Wan’s shoes made more noise than Anakin’s and had been enough to alert Maul of his presence. He walked into the bedroom with palpable enthusiasm of a schoolboy, hardly acknowledging Maul’s presence at the door as he passed by.

“All right, how is it?” Obi-Wan beamed, walking directly to Anakin and holding out his hands for him, “Do you think you’ll like it?” Anakin nodded, taking his hands and smiling shyly, all the unpleasantness forgotten in the face Obi-Wan’s affectionate concern.

Obi-Wan looked around, pleased at the redecorations. “This room was wasted all those years, I thought it was such an attractive room. You’ve made a fine job, Maul. I’ll give you that.”

“Thank you, sir,” Maul said quietly with a nod, his face expressionless, and then stepped fully out of the room and closed the door softly behind him.

“So? What do you think?” Obi-Wan asked, brow furrowed in concern.                                               

“It’s perfect, I think, it’s very much to our tastes,” Anakin assured. Obi-Wan’s face lit up with a bright smile. Anakin’s earlier strange encounter with Maul didn’t seem all that much of a big issue with Obi-Wan looking pleased at the room’s arrangements. He decided not to mention it.

Obi-Wan walked around the room for a while, touching things, looking at the pictures, checking the wardrobes. Then walked to the window and leaned out, looking down at the rose-garden.

“I’ve always loved the rose garden. This room is peaceful and cheery, and quiet too. You could never tell you were so close to the sea, from this room.”

“That’s what Maul said,” Anakin said, walking over to the dressing table, and laying down his hair brushes neatly. He felt like keeping himself busy so Obi-Wan couldn’t see something was amiss with him.

“How did you fare with old Maul?” Obi-Wan said abruptly.

Anakin looked up in the mirror and saw Obi-Wan watching him in the reflection. He fiddled with his hair idly, smoothing down hair on the back.

“He was...interesting,” Anakin said, and after a moment added, “A bit stiff, but I think he’s worried I’ll interfere with his running of the house.” He curled his lips in an attempt to smile. Obi-Wan stared at him for a moment before turning to look out again.

“Interesting? Well, don’t mind him,” he said, “If he makes himself a nuisance, we’ll get rid of him. But he’s efficient in his job, and will take all the housekeeping worries off your hand. I’d dare say he’s bit of a bully with the staff, and the staff does as he says. But he can be sacked if he tried that with you, he wouldn’t dare cross me though.”

“I’m sure it won’t come to that,” Anakin smiled, feeling himself blush at Obi-Wan’s care for him. He walked over to join Obi-Wan at the window. Obi-Wan drew him close by the waist, wrapping his arm loosely.

“I know I already asked but honestly, do you like the rooms? If you want, things can always be rearranged...” Obi-Wan said quietly, eyes searching Anakin’s.

“I like them very much, Obi-Wan, you need not worry,” Anakin said, playing with Obi-Wan’s coat lapels, “Everything is more than I’d expected, it’s perfect as I said.” Obi-Wan kissed his cheek, satisfied with his answer for now.

“Come now, let me show you something of Manderley,” Obi-Wan stepped back, tugging Anakin by the hands, “before Cody orders us down for dinner.” Anakin laughed out following him out of the room.

They spent the rest of evening in the gallery. Obi-Wan showing him paintings and explaining what he knew of them. Artoo joined them in their walk around the gallery. Ob-Wan kept his arm around Anakin’s waist throughout, and Anakin felt more like himself and began to feel he could make this work for him, make Manderley his home.

When he asked Obi-Wan about the painting he’d seen earlier of the siblings, he joked how he’d been asleep on his feet, and Asajj had sworn if she had to ever sit for another painting she would burn down the gallery itself. Anakin declared it was his favourite piece in the room. And when Cody politely informed them it was time for dinner, they went down together.

 Dinner was a much pleasant affair than Anakin had imagined it to be. Cody and the footman did not stare at him like Maul had done. They left Obi-Wan and him to have their privacy when they had everything served. They laughed and talked about things they’d seen in Italy and France, and the food they missed here most.

After dinner, they sat in the library. Obi-Wan read newspaper by the fireplace armchair, and Anakin sat across him, petting Artoo and looking around the room, taking in details he’d missed earlier. When it was time for bed, Obi-Wan walked back with him. Maul did not make an appearance again and Anakin was glad for it. He’d managed to dismiss him from his thoughts for the rest of the evening. He hoped it remained that way.

**Author's Note:**

> How do you feel about this? Please let me know in the comments, if you feel like :)
> 
> Thank you for reading :)


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